family dog

She warmed me while in my bed I nestled,
Not quite a woman, nor a little child,
As fraught with insecurities, I wrestled. 

With soulful eyes and gentle disposition
Her sojourn in our midst was comfort mild;
She offered me her love without condition.

She grew me up, brought solace to my heart,
Through frequent nighttime skirmishes and wars
That soon would rend my fragile world apart.

She would not judge or let us stay bereft,
This creature that could see into our cores;
When all else failed, she was what we had left.

Liz McFadzean

I am currently not a pet owner, though I have throughout my life had both dogs and cats.  Most of us identify with being either a “dog person” or a “cat person”.  I wouldn’t say that I am either, at least not in a general sense.  There are dogs and cats that I have loved in particular.  But I have already told my husband that I don’t think I’ll every own another pet.  I don’t want to be tied down.  I have grandchildren which are lure enough to keep me home.  Or if they don’t live near me, I want to be flexible enough to go to where they are without having to worry about what happens to a pooch.

The loveliest dog I ever knew was my first dog.  We never had a pet until I was about ten or eleven years old.  It was at that time that my dad brought home a border collie mix.  He had picked her up on a job site, I think, and he wisely stopped at a vet’s office on the way home, to make sure that this little pup was in the peak of health.  My sister and I named her “Lassie” after one of the most popular shows on TV.  Sunday night in our home was “hankamer” night.  (That was what my dad called hamburgers.)  He would cook patties on the grill and we would watch “Lassie”, “The Wonderful World of Disney” and “Bonanza” on TV.  Hence the least original of dog names became ours. But Lassie was a sweet and gentle soul.  She made everyone in our house nicer.  She was a hard act to follow.