As humans, you may define surrender as written by the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

“To yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand.” or “To give up completely or agree to forgo especially in favor of another.”

But to me, Miller, surrender is to accept, to love and to allow, to trust implicitly. I was barely in the door, and I couldn’t wait to get a big ole belly rub, flat out on my back. And before I knew it, I was on the couch. Fully surrendered.

My dad has another example of when he noticed my surrender. I was really comfortable on my soft, warm bed listening to my mom clean up dinner. Then it occurred to me there was a smell that I didn’t recognize to taste but knew from living on the roof and the air from the ground wafting up, up, up to me. It was chicken.

Mom, dad, please share, I thought. I must try chicken. And, as if they could read my mind, there it was placed in front of my big, freckled nose, a raw hide bone drizzled with chicken.

I was minding my own business in a state of chicken bliss, when my dad comes over and asks me for it. Huh? This raw hide bone drizzled in chicken. I tried so hard to make him turn away with my big green eyes, but he took it gently from me. He was so proud of me! Both my mom and dad were cuddling me and petting me, full of praise and joy. All I kept thinking was, are you going to eat it? If not, I’d really like to get back to enjoying my raw hide bone drizzled in chicken in the comfort of my soft, warm bed.

And just like that, my dad surrendered. Thanks, dad, it was delicious.

Home sweet home.