The Shoes

Bebo knows what these mean. They mean Saturday. They mean car trips and disc golf and the dog park. They mean trips to places with great parking lots to check out from the van while we shop, and the occasional trip to Petco when he gets to come inside too. They mean so much more than the boring brown pairs of dress shoes that Jim wears to work 5 days a week and on Sundays for church. The brown shoes mean he'll be spending most of his day on the back of the couch watching other dogs go on walks while he stays home in front of the window (probably while sporting bows in his hair from the girls- see the tiara on his head in this picture?). When Jim puts the gray shoes on in the morning, Bebo stays within 2 inches of them at all times. He won't eat his breakfast, he won't let Jim leave his sight- because he knows something very good will happen that day and he doesn't want to miss it. Today is no exception.

Also, he knows he doesn't want to miss whatever's in the tall, skinny, striped bag under the tree. A few nights ago he was hanging out with me on the floor while I was fitting in some more boxes and bags under the tree. As I moved things around, he found the bag- the one he looks forward to every year. One whiff and he knew something great was waiting for him inside. He occasionally goes over to it now and sticks his nose down deep into the bag and spends some time dreaming about what good treats must be in there. He's been such a good boy, though. He hasn't even moved the tissue paper out of the way. He seems to know Christmas is coming soon, and until then, he'll just have to wait.