My former next door neighbor, the heartstoppingly handsome Ming, has hated me for years. As a serious guard dog, he would snarl and bark at me every time I passed his gate. So when his owner asked me if I would stay with him for two weeks this summer I said "Yes, certainly, I'd love to", because I try to accept what is offered to me in life, all the while ignoring those shivers running up the back of my legs whispering "Run as fast as you can and get the hell out of here!". Ming suffered a stroke last year, he's deaf now and almost completely blind, but his sense of smell is still intact - and there's nothing wrong with his teeth either.
I spent the night before she left there, because, quite frankly, I was afraid to enter the house after her departure.
At every step of the way, I worried. When I left the house, would he let me come back in? - Yes.
Would he let me walk into the back of the house? The bedroom? The deck? Yes Yes Yes.
I quickly came to realize, Ming no longer hated me. In fact, he kinda liked me, and it was a pleasure to see his tail wag as I scratched his back and neck. I don't know what changed. Perhaps he's decided to retire from a long guard dog career - or maybe he just realized I was there for him. Within a matter of a couple of days we became good friends, although I admit I was always intensely aware of my ankles every time I had to pass by his slumbering body, lest he forget our new relationship.
