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Wednesday
Jul192017

Little dreamer

I am not a dog person. Depending on the temperament and behavior of the individual, I often find them intrusive, annoying, or outright offensive and intolerable. At best, they make me anxious because I worry (a global problem for me) about whether or not they need to poop or pee, are hungry, lonely, or sad. I had a German Shepherd in an earlier life, and much as I loved him, I worried about him all the time. My own neuroses make me less than an ideal pet owner, but with my son living at home and having a three year old female white pit bull, I am reluctantly pretty much just that.

Yet while I am inconvenienced and sometimes exasperated by Ellie, there is something redeeming about being responsible for another living creature. Not quite the same but on a similar spectrum to becoming a parent, which I also thought I had the wrong disposition for. So this morning, when I saw Ellie sacked out on Gabe's bed, my thought was that I am grateful, if sometimes grumblingly so, that she is with us and, as have my children, she helps me to remember that the effort of caregiving can be rewarding beyond all measure.

 

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