a perspective on value

In the past few years there have been days, months even, when I wondered if things would ever again be right in my life. Deaths in the family. Reconstruction on the house. Son in a war zone. Then husband. And finally they were both home but hubby was unemployed. Some days it was all I could do to drag myself out of bed in the mornings. There seemed to be no value in getting up to face yet another day of disappointment. Anger. Panic attacks. Despair.

But the little dog that lives at my house never lost hope. Each morning he got up and demanded I join him. Day after day, whether I liked it or not, we two faced the dawn. And late each afternoon he again asked in no uncertain terms for my attention. Sitting on the back patio, brushing his black-going-gray coat while he rested his white muzzle and dozed on my feet was sometimes all I had to look forward to. Watching his antics as he rolled on his back, feet paddling the air, reveling in the fresh-cut grass, was sometimes the only laugh I got all week. His soft bark the only non-electronic sound I heard each day.

His cold little nose always knew exactly where to find my hand. And then he'd do that little flip, you know the one, to make it land on his head. The only living thing in the world that asked nothing more from me than my touch. And once a day, a bowl of food.

Some say you rent a cat, and you own a dog. But I tend to the contrary. I think my dog was loaned to me by a Higher Power who knew way back all those many years and miles ago that one day I'd need the comfort of shaggy warm fur, the steadfast devotion that never questioned why lean times brought a diet of only dry bagged food with water gravy and no treats, and the unquestioning, unwavering love that only a dog can give.

I no longer claim that it was I who rescued him. And while I do not think there will be another in this house when his time with me is at an end, I will not say never. I will always be grateful for the warmth of a paw, the trust of soulful brown eyes, the joy of a wagging tail, and the value of a little heart that touched mine in more ways than I can ever count.

I am not at all surprised that DOG is GOD spelled backwards.