Her too-long snout, the feature that defys her alleged Beagle pedigree, rests in my lap, wearing a hint of a beard; some terrier blood, maybe?
When I forget to stroke her lemon-colored fur, she climbs up to the back of the sofa, where she can nuzzle my neck. It astounds me, the depth of the love I have for this creature. It almost seems a betrayal to call her a dog; though definitely not human, she is, without a doubt, family.
No comments:
Post a Comment