As I watched my dog Joey settle down to crouch next to my feet, I felt an onrush of gratefulness for my pet. Joey’s a challenge to me. He can be sad after my cats, or he can ignore them (much preferable) and go for the dishtowels on the island in the kitchen. He’s a terrier all right. Full of energy and happiness.
There was a time when I was close to tears about something or other. I’m a depressed woman, prone to maudlin moods. When he sat next to me in bed, he bent his head and licked my face. He’s a wonderful dog but he, at age 4, is still a puppy full of challenges. He has grown out of his mouthy habits. He used to shred my Dad’s shirts, pants and slippers to pieces. We have even considered turning him in to the shelter. But my Dad himself said No. My Dad is a wonderful person. He said he knew that I would need a companion animal. So we tolerate the papers and envelopes from the mail of the day to be scattered about.
I know I spoil Joey. But he loves me and I love him.
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