Your other pets look at you and see food, shelter, body heat.
Your dog looks at you and sees the person you aspire to be.

"Whether a man thinks he can do a thing or not, he is correct." -- Henry Ford

"Get busy living, or get busy dying."

Seasons change.
I am more. I am less.
Both are good.

My angel visits. My lucky one eve a week.
We talk, we laugh, we play.
Dinner.
Homework.
Candyland.
And then

Sometimes The Electric Company.
Sometimes a bath.
Depends how active the day, how ratty her hair.
Talk all the while, ‘bout everything that strikes her fancy.

The space of a blink.
Her ride is here, time to go home.
Traitorous clock! I’d shake my fist, would it do any good.

Hello, come in, yes-quite, she’s fine.
One moment, just getting her shoes on –

Yes, love, you have to go.
Because it’s time.
Be good. Be safe. I’ll see you next week.
Thank you for visiting, my angel. You make me so happy!
I love you more than anything. Anything!

Watch her walk out the door.
Hold face. Hold silence.

She is bigger this week than last.
Next week she’ll be bigger again.
Just the way of things.

…Just the way of things.

Round the corner now.
I close the door.
The quiet, normally a blanket, is piercing cold empty.

Shower. Solace.
Steady comforting white noise.
Warmth. Streaming down my face.
In the shower, I can pretend it’s water.
And the world can’t see.

A year goes by.