My husband had made it very clear: he wanted a guard dog. A big, tough, bark-on-command kind of dog. Me? I wasn’t so sure about sharing my home with a beast that could knock me over just by wagging its tail.
So I did what any loving, slightly sneaky wife might do.
I brought home the tiniest, fluffiest, least-threatening pup I could find. Her ears were floppy. Her belly was round. She had soft white fur and a pink ribbon tied perfectly around her neck.
When he saw her, he blinked. Then he scowled.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He didn’t speak to me for half the day.
But then… something shifted.
That night, I caught him sitting on the floor, holding her in his arms, whispering to her like they’d known each other forever.
Within a week, he named her Tyson. Yes, like the boxer. 😂
Now? They’re inseparable. Tyson rides shotgun in his truck. She waits by the mat when he’s training taekwondo. She even has her own mini training uniform (yes, I’m serious). And every night without fail, she curls up on his chest like she owns the place.
He said he wanted a protector.
Turns out, he just needed a best friend in a tiny, fluffy package.
And me? I’m not even jealous. (Okay, maybe a little.)
