Gifts from a Pitbull

Marley is a rescued dog.  He was less than 24 hours a way from being shot in the head when I got him.  Small town, no animal shelter, Pit Bulls die.  No questions about it.  That isn't the story, but it might explain it.
People say I anthropomorphise my dogs too much, by attributing human qualities to them.  Believe me, I do the exact opposite to a lot of people, categorizing them by the worst dog traits they exhibit, so I think I am being fair here.
Marley brings me something in his mouth EVERY time I come home.  Sometimes it is something I mistakenly left on the counter, like a pepper mill, or something he scored from the recycling bin under the sink.  Other times it is just one of his toys, or even some kibble from his bowl.  He is very generous, and very giving.  Without fail he always meets me at the door with something.  I think he knows he was rescued, and every day he is reminding me of how glad he is to have come to live here.
I think I came home a little late, and I surprised him.  He didn't have anything and was quite distraught, so he ran back over to the couch without even greeting me, and grabbed the first thing he could find.  In this case, what he wanted to bring me wasn't terribly happy to be part of his routine.  It was Bella, Marley's companion Pit Bull.  She was resting on the couch, happily ignoring my entry, and Marley grabbed her by the collar and just pulled her onto the floor.  She was surprised to say the least.
He didn't actually get to bring her to me.  She protested a bit, then jumped back up on the couch.  I don't consider this trend to be broken though.  It sometimes isn't just the thought that counts, but the effort too.