My throat is dry and coarse. My stomach feels like I’ve been sitting on a boat for the past two hours, it wobbles and rolls with the sway of a make-believe ocean. I feel sick. It’s been coming on now for a few days and it’s starting to catch up with me.
I’m trying to respond to a couple of emails from work, but it’s a losing battle. The medicine I’ve taken has made me dazed and even slightly groggy. In the middle of it all, our dog, a Bichon Frise and Lhasa Apso mix comes sauntering into our living room and jumps up on the sofa to sit next to me. She could sit anywhere in our house, perhaps my daughter’s cozy bedroom, full of warm pillows and blankets, or one of my son’s rooms, but she chooses to sit next to me.
Our dog, Nittany, cuddles next to me and I can feel her heart beat against my leg, pump-pump, pump-pump. She drowsily settles into a deep slumber. I’m still sick, but I feel the love. She trusts me to protect her. She trusts me to be there for her. I gently rub her belly and she lets out a quiet whimper.
She occasionally frustrates us, because she’ll decide to leave us little bathroom surprises in the grass one step out our front door or she’ll bark through the window at someone outside going about their own business. God forbid the neighbor have their own dog on a leash on the sidewalk. But she’s got us wrapped around her little paws.
I know some people love cats, while others love fish or some other favorite, the big one nowadays seems to be bearded dragons. It doesn’t matter.
I’m still a dog person.
Pet stories and other tales: