How do we hold our dogs? We hold them in our hands when they are born, tiny beings breathing our dreams. They fill our hearts and break them. We live along side each other, sharing intimacies and indignities, secrets we might never utter to a human soul. They show us how to laugh over and over again. And how to cry unashamedly. We teach, we learn. Both of us foolish and wise by turns. My house is run by the rhythm of the dogs in it. Their lives and needs. Animals have outnumbered people here for almost as long as I can remember. My youngster bounds through my world with the unfettered joy of a can of silly string. His presence is a kaleidoscope of neon colors erupting in all directions. My old dog is winding down, I want to slow time as she nears the end of these days we have shared since her very first breath. She came into the world struggling to breathe, and as she starts to prepare to exit, it is my turn to find my breath catching every time I look at her. We are everything to them and they to us. |
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