From the moment her big sad eyes met mine - I could think of nothing else, but taking her home with me. She was a medium sized mutt. She had matted hair. I could feel her ribs when I pet her, but somehow I knew she belonged to me and I belonged to her.
But she is just a dog...
I suffered through her running away from home the first night (her emancipated frame fit right through my ornate fence); She destroyed three luxorious comforters; she managed to eat just one of each pair of my expensive shoes.
But she is just a dog....
She shrunk from my touch. She would not eat until I left the room. She growled and twitched and cried in her sleep.
But she is just a dog....
She let me pet her. She waited for me to come home. She dealt with foster dogs and permanent dogs. She kissed my face in the morning.
But she is just a dog.
She left my home with me. She forced me to function. She taught me to love outside myself.
But she is just a dog.
I switched jobs and homes. I fell in and out of love (like). I cried myself to sleep and she laid with me.
But she is just a dog.
I fell in love for keeps. She fell in love too (well accepted it). She comforted me through fears of rejection.
But she is just a dog.
Her walk became forced. Her skin began to flake. Her breathing became labored.
But she is just a dog.
I lost a loved one. I lost a baby. I cried with my husband with her head on my lap.
But she is just a dog.
I lay down and rest my busy head and she lays next to me. She grunts and she sighs. She feels my pain as I feel hers.
She isn't just a dog. She is my heart, my teacher, my child and my love.
But you say she is just a dog.
