The dogs came bounding into the living room like two toddlers, twirling and jumping, barking and play-growling. Elliott was carrying something in his mouth furiously shaking the object to get Blondie to play tug with him.
“Elliott, give me that,” the elegant greyhound spun around, out of my grasp, tail in the air ready for a game of chase. Blondie turned and excitedly bowed her front paws down on the ground with her butt in the air barking at him.
“Stop it you two!” They both looked up at me in surprised. Elliottyears. I held the doll and cradled her broken body, stuffing coming out everywhere. I knew Elliott didn't mean to ruin my childhood keep-sake but he did and I was extremely saddened by the loss.
“What happened?” Ryan keeled down and put his arms around me.
Clutching pieces of my doll, Blondie faced me with a look of concern, tilting her head slightly, kissing my tears. Poor Elliott stood back up and wagged his tail not knowing what to do but trying to make us laugh.
“ I've had her forever,” I explained.
“I’m so sorry,” Ryan said as he turned to reprimand Elliott. “Bad Dog!” Elliott cowered as Ryan lifted his hand to strike.
“Don’t hit him. He didn't know what he was doing,” I said. “Besides, it’s too late now. He won’t associate the consequence with ripping up my doll,” I reasoned and hugged the big lug of a dog.