A Girl and her Dog

Our terrier has always been MY dog. I named her Peyton, after my (former) Colts quarterback. She's always slept on my side of the bed, under the covers, down by my feet. If Steve (or anyone, really, for that matter) tries to hug me, she starts barking her fool head off.

She protects me. She's my dog.

But lately, I've noticed a shift in loyalties.

She protects BRIGID, now, when Steve 'gets' her. She jumps up excitedly on BRIGID when we get home. She lets BRIGID comfort her when she's hiding from thunderstorms that are out and about.




Brigid, Brigid, Brigid.

I'm not so sure I really like where this is heading...