a ~ Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.


Dear Dogs,

You are loved. Not as much as the children, but loved. I know you are getting old. I know you spend much of your time asleep or falling asleep or just waking up. It’s fine. This is your job. And yes, you are welcome to the bed, the couch, the pile of blankets on the floor. Our years left together are few and I think you should have access to comfort. Until a human wants your warm spot, then you have to leave. Sorry.

Also sorry for browsing the greyhound rescue webpage the other night. Please don’t be offended. Moment of weakness.

Thank you for being tolerant of babies and toddlers. Thank you for learning quickly that nipping when a small human squeezes your ears too hard is unacceptable behavior. The boys love you as much as I do, maybe more. You dogs have been good friends to them.

I remember the day we claimed you. You both squeezed into the back of the Suburu and watched out the back as we drove you to your new home. We took you for a dozen walks that first afternoon. And that night you joined the four of us (there were only four of us, then) on the futon to watch a movie. Like you’d always lived with us.

You might not know this, but the things we imagine you say make us laugh harder than almost anything else.

I promise to listen when you tell us you feel sore and sick.

Love to you both, sweet puppies,

About andi

Writer, editor, wrangler of small boys and dogs.

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