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The dogs do this thing where they have to get up and go on patrol. Valentine will be worrying a toy when she’ll hear something and freeze, ears erect, nostrils twitching. She’ll drop her toy on my belly and trot back and forth in circles around us, until she’s sure we are safe. Then it’s Theo’s turn. He’ll have watched her make her rounds and when she’s through he heaves himself up with a grunt and scuffles the dozens of dachshund steps between my feet and my chin to check in, lick my face.


I’ll scritch him behind the ears for a while as he breathes hot puppy breath in my face.


When he’s certain I’m ok (or when he’s accepted the fact that I’m not dead yet and no, he can’t eat me), he’ll walk around the top of my head, back down towards my feet… (it’s a long way for a wiener)



Then he’ll drop  to his side with a thud and a sigh, his job complete.



Little guardian lapdogs.