To be Loved by a dog

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8 good years I have lived with this fellow. Until today, I still wonder at the fact that this beautiful, shy creature is actually my own. It is a wonder that grows in the quiet moments, when I come down the stairs at midnight and he watches me from across the room, and ever so tentatively he comes towards me, ears back and head low, and when I bend down and open my arms he melts into a ball at my feet. It’s a wonder that grows when we walk side by side on the street, leashless, and he walks in sync with me, guided only by my voice. It grows when I bid him sit and wait while I go into a store, and he listens to me and waits patiently, just because. It grows when I examine God’s handiwork – the velvet tips of his ears, his shining eyes, delicate paws and smiling face, and am blown away again by the fact that this is a real, living, breathing creature. As real and alive as myself, and yet so much not like myself, and yet loves me – loves me in a way only animals can love.

I’ll miss this old fellow like crazy.

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