Exactly one year ago today I picked up Darcy from her first home, and I was already in love. Within weeks she’d developed the most incredible and amusing personality; she knows what she does and doesn’t like, she is a fussy eater (makes my niece look downright adventurous), and she is the perfect snuggler whenever I need a bit of comfort and de-stressing (like after the horrendous interviews I went through last year.
The last few months haven’t exactly been easy; with a new job meaning I am out of the home for sometimes more than 12-hours a day, and weekends often mean desperately running around like a headless chicken to get things run, as well as enjoying the rarity of a lie in. I know that Darcy misses my company during the day – so I try my utmost to make it up to her when I am at home (like yesterday afternoon when I had some time off for an interview and was home before and after).
I don’t know if I ever will have her sleeping on my bed – mostly because she has this awful tendency to make her presence known by farting in my face when I manage to doze off on the sofa. I do think that she is getting used to this particular restriction so while I feel guilt about being out of the house for a long time during the day, I don’t feel guilty at closing my bedroom door at night so I can sleep without a mouthful of her fur (seriously she is a fluffball).
I still can’t believe it’s been a year, that she is 15 months old, and to think I went with the intention of coming home with a boy.
Darcy, here’s to you my precious little hug bug.