Every morning he waits for me to wake up, his head resting on the side of my bed. He stares at me with his big brown puppy dog eyes. Ready to get the day started, go for his morning run, and of course, sneak under the table for a bite of the crust off my peanut butter toast. He then spends his dog days napping on the cool wood floor, pouncing up and down at the neighbors dog across the fence, or digging a huge hole by the porch. His toys are usually found torn to pieces within a matter of minutes, then forcing him to move on to chew on the nearest shoe he can find. He makes use of the bathroom trash as he decorates the floor and hallway with torn shreds. He chases the cat up and down the stairs like it's the new game everyone is talking about. Oh, the life of a dog.
But no matter the circumstances of the day, there isn't a time I don't walk through to door that I am not greeted by Remi. He waits patiently, his tail is wagging back and forth, ears perked, and eyes wide with excitement. When I walk into the house he dances around with excitement, expressing his happiness with his loud grunts. I bend down to greet him, and he covers my face in a big, sloppy, wet dog kiss. That is love.