Are You Being Loved and Hating it?

I can see the fear in her eyes as I descend the staircase toward her, arms outstretched. I'm smiling and calling her name, but she's cowering. As I draw close, she tries to become one with her bed, trying desperately to become as small as possible. Or perhaps, better yet, invisible.

"Chenly!" I crouch down, throwing myself upon her as gently as I can. I press my face against her soft coat, not caring that I'll probably end up with hair in my mouth. She's so soft. And soooooo huggable.

I can feel her looking up over my head at whomever might be standing at the top of the steps. "No one's coming to save you," I tell her affectionately.

She drags herself away from me, running to the safety of her food dish. If she's eating, I can't bother her.

It's a fools hope.

Obviously, I'm still going to bug her. I'm not done cuddling. She's just too cute. She deserves every hug! So, I go to her. I stand behind her, hovering, laughing to myself as she freezes. She's watching me out of the corner of her eye, waiting for me to move away.

I don't. Instead, I wrap my arms around her stomach and hoist her into the air, nuzzling her neck and planting kisses on her shoulder. She doesn't complain. She never does. She just places her head on my shoulder and waits for this hateful loving to end. Oh, how she wishes it would just end so she could get back to being lazy.

Instead of letting her go, I croon softly to her, telling her how much I love her. "You're just the cutest. Did you know that? Yes, you are. You're so, so, SO cute! You deserve hugs. You deserve every hug!"

My sister comes down the stairs to join us, gently patting Chenly's head.

"Does she look pathetic?" I ask.

"Yes," my sister says lovingly, kissing Chenly's head. "She does. Nyaw."

"You poor, pathetic, pooch. Are you being loved and hating it?"

We laugh, and I give the dog another gentle squeeze. And much to Chenly's dismay, my sister joins in the hug, wrapping us both in her arms. We stand there, just like that. It doesn't last long, but it's beautiful. I wish it could last forever. But this mutt is all muscle, so even though she isn't a big dog, she gets heavy after a while. Besides, I know that I'm probably sporting a fur sweater by now. Not that I care. She's worth it.

With another kiss, I gently lower her to the ground and pat her sides. As I thought, I'll need the lint roller. Not that I'll use it. I'll just violently brush myself off and watch her fur float back down to the linoleum. It'll get swept up or vacuumed another time.

Chenly is grateful to get away and turns back to her food dish. I'm convinced that's how she deals with the stress of being loved. I smile at her, and go sit on the bottom step to watch her. She didn't actually want to eat, so she comes to sit next to me, pressing her forehead against my leg as I give her pets. If I stop, she noses my hand to continue.

Really. She's the cutest. "You know, Chenly, you'd be cuter if you liked hugs. I wish you liked hugs. I want you to want hugs." I say that, but I only sort of mean it. Her reactions to hugs are too funny. And I love the way she goes limp in my arms when I pick her up. So, although I wish she loved love, this is good too.

I'm sure she doesn't actually hate it that much. If she did, I probably wouldn't have a face.