My Dog

...by Eddie Vidmar

What does my dog mean to me? How could I explain it…?

When I first saw her pathetic, undernourished body lying in a cage at the animal shelter, I cried.

When they let me take her for a walk, I grinned.

When she laid her scruffy head in my lap, I sighed.

When I decided that she would soon be my new dog, I smirked.

When I picked her up the next day and saw her bewildered eyes, I wept.

When I got her home and she lay on the floor at my feet, I beamed.

When she started using the carpets as her bathroom, I frowned.

When she learned to stay in her special "stay" spot, I smiled.

And now that she's been my dog for over a year, I don't cry, sigh, weep, or frown any more.

When I come home from work and hear her happy, anxious whimper as she pleads for her daily trip to the park, when she comes running to the kitchen because she hears the crinkle of the foil bag that has the treats in it, when she hops up onto the couch and digs her head under my hand so I will pat her head, when she jumps into the bed and tries to burrow under me, when she races into the other room to get her stuffed sock for some tug-toy play, when she comes to tell me she has to go outside rather than mess the carpets in her home, when we lay on the floor and slap fight and she uses her paws like little hands, when she stands guard at the top of the stairs until everybody that should be in the house is in the house, when she looks up at me with the biggest brown eyes and the sweetest terrier face I have ever seen, I grin, smirk, beam and smile.

Mostly, though, I love….