We aren’t house-proud.
If we were, we wouldn’t abide the scratches on the doorframe, the holes in the screen, the darkened shine of worn spots on the chair.
We would wince at the mottled carpet and fret at the hair clinging to our clothes.
If anything, we lovers of dogs are a tolerant lot, finding greater value in the unabashed affection of our friends than in immaculate sofas.
Shoes can be replaced, but heroic retrievers are timeless.
Without dogs, our houses are cold receptacles for things.
Dogs make a fire warmer with their curled presence.
They wake us, greet us, protect us, and ultimately carve a place in our hearts and our history.
On reflection, our lives are often referenced in parts defined by the all-too-short lives of our dogs.