It started with a very small moment. As many of us do, I live alone. OK, not really. I have six kids who have 24 legs. I was eating supper and two of the doggie kids were asleep, but little Margie was sitting in front of me with a look of longing torturing my conscience. When I finished I gave her a bite. You would have thought a bomb went off in my house if you could have seen the other two jump up out of a dead sleep. (The other three are cats and couldn’t have cared less.) That little thing made me have a big ol’ smile on my face and set me off on a tangent of thought.
The love of these guys is perfect. I leave them home alone hours at a time and they try so hard to be good and are successful at it most of the time. They don’t ask me where I have been or why I don’t spend more time with them. They give kisses and do happy dances whenever I come home. It doesn’t matter if I have been gone hours or minutes. They are always happy to be fed and don’t complain about the food. They love getting treats and never whine when one gets a bigger one than the other.
They listen when I talk to them. They don’t give advice nor are they judgmental. They may not understand the words, but they comprehend the feeling and emotion behind them. They don’t tell the secrets you tell them. They don’t hold a grudge. I know they depend on me, I wish they knew also how much I depend on them. Perhaps they do.
I can’t imagine how anyone can live a fulfilled life without a four-legged life partner. I feel sorrow for those who are truly alone --- I wish they knew what they were missing. I don’t own any pets, they own me. Please don’t tell my dogs. My cats already know it --- the Poop