We have hosted some enjoyable houseguests over the years but none as easy-to-please as our new friend Sydney.
Molly introduced us and, having been prepped ahead of time with stories of Sydney’s all-around greatness, I thought I’d be underwhelmed.
“So this is Sydney,” I said, like a cranky old skeptic from the front porch of a well-guarded lawn.
Sydney licked my hand.
“Heh heh, nice to meet you,” I said and I gave her a little pat on the head.
Sydney nudged her head between my hand and my hip and looked up at me expectantly.
Like Pavlov’s human, I began to scratch Sydney’s neck with one, then both hands.
Sydney sat on the ground near me and leaned her head in.
I crouched down and she turned to face me, looked me straight in the eye, and, well, I knew I was a goner.
“She likes me!” I said, all Sally Field like. No one within my ear shot pointed out the obvious. Sydney likes everyone.
For the whole week she was with us, we all felt like her best friend.
I figured there’d be trouble eventually, some sort of smelly discharge that results in a stain, or snatching, or snarling, or awkward sniffing of the nether region.
But, Sydney did none of that. She asked for very little in the way of creature comforts and seemed quite content to mosey about, resting in sunshine spots or against any human that paused long enough for her to snuggle herself close.
She walked every morning to humor us, and every evening to take care of her necessary functions but, beyond that, she demanded very little.
“Can we keep her?” I asked Molly, who was Sydney’s dog sitter.
“No mom, you can’t,” Molly said, gently but firmly. “She has a family that loves her.”
“But I want to!” I said.
“I know,” Molly said, patting my hand.
We all really enjoyed our week with Sydney.
And it was nice to have Molly home too.