A Night With Leo

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I honestly can’t call myself a doggy person – but a night with Leo changed all that.

During my illustrious career as a house-sitter, my number one rule was “no dogs”. Now, admittedly, it did reduce the house pool somewhat, but I remained firm. That is until I met Leo.

I have long retired from being a permanent house-sitter deciding that I do prefer to have an anchor, somewhere to call ‘home’. Besides, I needed to get my stuff out of storage before it all became worthless junk, or the heirlooms got forgotten.

So I hung up my shingle and settled into my existing abode and only agreed to look after two cats for a couple who had become friends.

Then I met Leo. Leonardo di Corgio to be precise. Yes, a corgi who snuck into my life and tugged my heartstrings. This dog seemed to have the innate ability to ferret out my ‘don’t do dogs’ opinion, hone into my psyche and become an animal I enjoy being around. I have no idea how he did it. (I think I have a clue now as to why the Queen loves this breed.)

[ss_click_to_tweet tweet=”What is it about a corgi that just delights and captures the heart-strings? #corgisarethebest #corgilove #corgiworld” content=”” style=”default”]

The day arrived for me to dog-sit. And there he was, at the door waiting for me. He knows my car and is always at the door when I arrive unless he’s asleep!

He greeted me with exuberant excitement, racing around before rushing off to get his mauled blanket and deposit it at my feet.

Let me explain something about Leo. He loves to play fetch. He will bring you anything he can find and deposit it at your feet or on your lap in the slim hope you will throw it. These ‘fetch’ gifts can range from his blanket (as mentioned) to an empty toilet roll, a sock to a piece of bark from the garden. And he doesn’t tire of it. Seven socks ended up on the bench over the time I was there. And, I have no idea where he was getting them from!

So once I’d got settled in and made a coffee I told him we’d play ball. You’d think I’d given him the world as I went for the ball and throwing device.

He ran up and down the side path, skidding into the garden when necessary or banging into walls simply to retrieve the ball and bring it back.

Ears erect, eyes fixed, and brain focused. Nothing was more important than where that ball went.

Finally, I’d had enough. I’m quite sure Leo would have kept going until his little feet bled. But I had finished my coffee, my arm was getting sore, so I called “last one, Leo” and it was as if he knew because when he brought the ball back and dropped it at my feet, he went straight to his water bowl.

Naturally, there were a few more ball games during the day, and that night he jumped up on the bed with me and snuggled in.