Our dogs are here-I-am dogs. If you are walking through the house, they are walking through the house. If you are in the bath, they are resting on the bathmat, and will stand on the tub evaluating the situation whenever you add water or drain water, and periodically just to check on you. Still, there? Good. I’m still here as well. I was worried I’d nodded off and missed you.
They shift at precisely 6:17 a.m., but not much. Just enough to let me know it’s nearly 6:30 and if I act now I can stretch and give everybody pets and turn off the alarm before the wretched thing goes off.
You don’t need to call them because they’re right here, sprawled at your feet. Gosh, I’m so glad we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing. Oh! Filling the water dish! Great! This is my favorite part! Thank goodness we’re together! I might have missed this!
I had forgotten what a house with young dogs felt like. I’d forgotten how urgent and enthusiastic their love is. Like new parents. What if I miss something? What if she crawls when I’m looking out the window? What if she says her first word while I’m washing dishes? What if I miss it? What if she needs me? I have to anticipate everything!
There is so much attention in their love. So much enthusiasm. And they love me differently from the way they love Mary, from the way they love Gavin. They tune their love to your particular frequency and devote themselves to you. I didn’t expect to be sated with their love. I worried I was too sad to have lost my old dogs to make enough room for these young ones. What a silly thing to have been afraid of. Love just finds a different way in. This version sprints along with me everywhere. This version can’t let me out of its sight. This version rests, always, with its paws on me. I am here. Here I am. Ready for whatever you need.