Mugs

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A couple of weeks ago, a few days after my birthday, Eric and I were walking around at the Grove.  As we passed by Anthropologie, Eric said, “Oh, I just remembered one of your gifts that I forgot to give you.”  We went inside and meandered around the store.  We pointed out various objects to each other, as people tend to do when they’re in a store together.  I saw some cute mugs with dogs in hats that I pointed out.  I told him they were cute, but I bet they were delicate.  He said that he thought they would be okay if cared for properly.  From his reaction, I had an idea that I knew what the forgotten gift was.  Indeed, when we got home, he dug a package from the closet and I opened it and inside were the mugs you see in the above picture.

Now, almost every morning we drink our coffee out of these mugs.  I suppose it’s a form of narcissism, but since we think our dogs are the most attractive dogs in the world, we buy each other little statues or bookends or jewelry boxes or mugs that have dogs that remind us of Ricky and Millie.  The dog on the mug looks more like Millie, but with that bright fez, clearly evokes the spirit of Ricky.  

This evening as I was washing the dishes, I thought to myself how much I loved the mugs and I probably loved them more because of the way they belatedly came to me. With tender loving care, I washed and rinsed each mug. Like so many of us, they are a little delicate, but are okay if cared for properly.

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