22nd Oct 2007
the joy of doG
Willa is laying behind me, in a pool of sunshine working on a bone, as I type this. All through this long, tough past week, she has been here and let me give her hugs upon hugs (Labs are great that way ’cause they’re more than big enough to wrap your arms around — at least she is. I think she’s probably about 90lbs at this point). She has made me laugh with her ongoing war with the squirrel outside the window — affectionately named the F’er. She has played her heart out at the dog park and dragged me all around our neighborhood, barking at Halloween decorations that move or flap or just plain she doesn’t like.
She doesn’t care what mood I am in.
She only eats my books when she wants me to give her a little sugar and then we curl up together on the couch.
She licks my face when I am sad and sometimes even whimpers a little.
She loves me more than anything in the world.
I think a dog is life itself. Or what life should be — putting yourself out there, again and again, ’cause there are people who need you and your kisses and your ability to drink water from the tub faucet.
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