"When did you become a kicked dog?"

It had gotten late, the family party becoming more rowdy, so I grabbed my sleeping toddler, and my nearly sleeping child. I packed up our stuff, then made my way over to my husband. 

"Kids and I are ready to go whenever you are, babe." 

"We'll go when I'm ready," my husband snapped. He must have seen my disappointment, and he grabbed me for a hug and kissed me, just a peck. 

I turned to see my father behind us, shaking his head. "When did you become a kicked dog?" He asked. "Struck, then crawling back for the smallest ounce of affection."

Since then, every argument, every time I give just to not fight anymore, I see her. The kicked dog standing in the corner, waiting for the kindness that follows.