Ivan and Dasa have very different personalities. I usually have more stories to tell about Ivan as I often find myself getting Ivan out of a pickle or picking up the pieces of something he has destroyed. Ivan stories are usually about adventures such as getting his mouth stuck shut because he attempted to eat an entire magazine at once. I adore my gorgeous puppy boy, but he’s like the child so frequently sent to the principal’s office that his parents’ phone number is on the office speed dial.
Stories about Dasa, my pink-nosed princess, normally lack the drama, because she is very well behaved. She has a slight under bite, and an adorable pink nose. Eric teasingly refers to her as his ugly duckling. I say, “never mind sweetie. You can sleep in the big bed with me and Daddy will sleep in the garage.” Eric’s survival instincts are intact and he follows up by carrying Dasa to the couch to rub her soft tummy. Plus, he enjoys the worshipful looks she gives him when he strokes her soft ears. He receives gentle paw taps to encourage him to keep up the petting.
When I hold Dasa, stroke her soft fur, rub gently behind her ears and tell her what a good beautiful girl she is, I am rewarded with her version of purring. Dasa’s purring sounds like a series of soft sighs.
She sleeps with her head on my pillow or curled up under my arm. Snuggled up with her little paw resting on my arm while she sleeps, I am awash with contentment and joy. We are enchanted by our little girl. She is full of such goodness and sweetness, of sunshine, butterflies, the fragrance of cookies fresh from the oven, fall leaves on a windy day, lilacs and roses, soft grass and sheltering trees. She makes my heart smile.