First of all, he's a vacuum cleaner. I'm not sure what people do about all the food under the high chair if they don't have a dog. I mean, you're not going to clean up under there 5 times a day, are you? I wouldn't. But Toby does. This skill alone pays for all of his pills and shots and vet visits.
Toby prompted Sam's first giggle when she was just a couple of months old. Adam came home and chased him around the house like he always does. Sam must have heard me laughing at this dozens of times, and one day, she joined in. This pays for the hell he put me through as a puppy.
Samantha is old enough to play fetch with him now, too. For some reason, this Labrador Retriever will not fetch for Adam or me, but he will for Sam. If we throw something he might bring it back once or twice but then he's done. For Sam, he'll fetch as long as she's interested. Maybe it's because she can only throw the ball a few feet and he figures it's worth the trip. Maybe he enjoys the way I clap and say, "yea!" in my cutsie voice when Sam is involved. Or maybe he finds her as adorable as I do when, after throwing the ball, she turns around and runs the other way, squealing with delight.
Yep, that dog is in the black now.
Of course, as soon as I write my ode to Toby, he must prove me wrong. This morning he snuck out the front door, almost knocking Sam over in the process. I had to chase him down while Sam stood in the rain. Now you know why Sam knows how to say BAD BOY!
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