Four legged friends

We have two dogs, each of us bringing one to the relationship. Tucker is the yellow, long-haired one and Bella is the black lab. Each of them has some wonderful qualities--they are both so loving and sweet. Tucker, even though he is almost twelve, still chases Bella around and wants to play just like a puppy. He hates thunderstorms and is the ultimate protector of the house, even though some of his protective personality is a result of fear. Bella is so playful and has a tail that'll knock over anything in its way. She is so happy to see anyone who will pet her--there is not an aggressive bone in her body. And while both shed a ton of hair all year long, you'll never find a sticky spot on my kitchen floor!

Both of them have faults, too. Tucker is neurotic and his aggression can cause problems at times; he barks a lot--a real lot--and he likes to dig big holes in the yard. Bella licks ad nauseum and she can be rather willful. A habit we just can't seem to break is her love of rolling in yucky things. Manure or any other animal skat and dead things are her favorites. Yesterday, on a family walk, Bella threw herself to the ground and happily was rolling around in the dewy grass. It wasn't until she got up that we discovered that she had found a dead mole and the smell emanating from that dog the rest of the day was terrible.

She's had three baths since. And she still stinks.

The worst part is, she doesn't understand what she did wrong or why she has been relegated to the basement. When she's been outside, she looks in the window woefully, completely wounded in what seems to be neglect in her eyes. It makes me really sad to see her like that, and it makes me wonder about when Timothy is going to look at me, not understanding why he is feeling some way. Like next Monday when he's going to get a second round of immunizations and he's going to look in my eyes and wonder I can't protect him from this pain.

How many more times in his life am I going to feel that way? I think once is too many.