Gracie's World

Gracie most certainly knows how to work a throw pillow and a blanket. 

 Today marks the two-year anniversary of this girl's arrival into my life.

And just like every other day between then and now, Gracie lived out the day with sunny optimism and a big, bold attitude. My dog has her way with life, and oftentimes I do believe that this is Gracie's world and we are just living in it.

After losing twenty pounds in her first few months with us, 

her weight on the scales may have crept back up but she looks as fit and sleek as ever. 

 As I left the house this morning to run some errands, Gracie obediently hopped up on her favorite couch and presented herself for our goodbye ceremony. As always, I closed the door to the rest of the house, limiting my pup to the run of the family room, kitchen and laundry room. 

And though this familiar routine was completely up to our usual standard, I felt something was amiss. So before I even left the driveway, I texted my third-born, who was working on a paper upstairs, to check on our red-headed angel when she had a minute. 

Have I mentioned that Gracie wears socks at night? They are infant socks from Baby Gap, and she has nine different sets; these have little yellow bulldozers. In the evenings after she's eaten her apple and made one last trip around the backyard, we slip her into her cozies and she settles right down for the night. She seems to find them to be quite relaxing. 

What happened next was this.

My daughter came downstairs and opened the door to the half of the house where Gracie was supposedly napping.

She walked through the kitchen and turned the corner to face into the family room.

There, strewn across the floor, she found the contents of the composting bin.

Mango pits and peels

Eggshells.

Old lettuce.

Pistachio shells.

Our red headed lady had once again jumped up at the kitchen sink, clenched the edge of the gallon-sized plastic bin that holds our food scraps, hoisted it up and over the edge of the extra deep sink, and carted it off to the family room, where she undoubtedly dumped it onto the floor and sorted through the spoils. 

My daughter looked that naughty little dog in the eye and calmly asked, "Gracie, what is this?

This is the couch to which Gracie ran. She knows when she has been naughty.

In response, Gracie scrambled to her feet and scampered out the now-open door to the other end of the house, where she jumped up on a different couch, curled in a cozy heap, closed her eyes, and did her best impression of a sleepy and altogether innocent puppy.

And so it goes.

I'm still not convinced that this really is Gracie's world. But I am one hundred percent sure that she considers it to be all hers. 

And just like every other day of the two years we have spent together, I can only wonder what she'll dream up to do tomorrow.