Simba, oh dear sweet Simba

Simba is our white lab. He is a nice boy.  He was found by a friend along the highway in Minnesota.  She attempted to find the owner for a good 3 months and no one came forward to claim this sweet boy; so he was sent to live with us.  He is really, truly a nice sweet boy.  So, why do I dislike him so much?  I do love him, please don't get me wrong, I would be terribly hurt and sad if something were to happen to him, I just don't really like him. 

I think part of it is that he is really needy.  We call him a "Tit Baby".  And this fits him.  He is that dog that is constantly underfoot, the one who needs to sit on your lap, and the one who must be touching you in some way at all times.   

Simba is our 1-man welcoming committee.  Open the front door and come on in.  And then please stand in the front entryway until Simba is satisfied that he has recieved enough of your attention to let you pass. 

Simba is our teddy bear.  He sleeps in our bed.  And must be touching one of us at all times.  If we move, he will too.  Generally, he will sleep at the foot of the bed on my side, well not really the foot.  I lay on my back and put my legs over him, so he sleeps under my knees.  And if I shift to my side, he wedges himself between me and Deron. 

Simba is our lap dog.  If you go to sit down, he will too.  Either at (ON) your feet, or in your lap.  And yes, he is very large.  It doesn't necessarily need to be your entire lap, if he can get a paw on your leg, he'll be ok for a bit.  But please believe, he will inch his way into your lap.  By the time the movie is over, he will be curled up with his little nose in your neck, like a little baby. 

And if you get up, even if it's to grab the remote from the coffee table, he will also get up.  And wait for directions. 

He really is a good boy.  But, I think that this is the reason we didn't have more children.  And I am starting to understand a little better.  Simba is a toddler.  When he came to live with us, the vet guesstimated that he was under 2 years old.  So, now a year later, we will say he is under 3.  Either way, he is a pain in my ass.  But, every day he is learning.  And some things, I think he is picking up on.  Others, not so much. 

He has been gone for 2 weeks with Mariah to MN.  It was lovely. 
I only vacuumed once while he was gone.  Vacuuming is a daily chore. 
I also slept until 6 every morning while he was gone.  This morning, I heard the familiar chiming of his tags...at 5:15. 
I was able to cook dinner or unload the dishwasher or move around in general while he was gone.  Last night, I tripped over him twice before I shrieked and he ran to Daddy.

And I said to Deron this morning, I don't think I missed him while he was gone. 

But I did.  I missed him alot.  It was so wierd and "un-normal" in our house without him there. 

Something else about this dog...he is a giant Chicken Wiener.  He is afraid of everything. 
Here is the view when we did fireworks at our house:

And this morning when the thunderstorm was giving our poor dry grass, vegetables and plants a much needed shower, Chicken Wiener and company all joined me in the bathroom as I prepared for the day.

All in all, he is a lover.  And I like lovers.  And really how can you say no to and not love anything that looks like this

He is such a beautiful creature.  Even when he pretends to be vicious (or yawn)

And he makes a good friend to my Brew

So I guess I might learn to like him.  In the meantime, I will only secretly like him, and continue to pretend I don't.