Woman's Best Friend

As I sit on the couch and begin to place my words of wisdom into this post, there is a yellowish furry creature pawing at my arm. She is trying her best to discourage me from typing and encourage me into playing tug of war with her instead. Her name is Julie, and she is a 65-pound yellow Labrador Retriever my son rescued from a shelter two years ago.

I've had dogs in my life for as long as I can remember, beginning with a little white dog named Frisky when I was nine years old. Then there was Rocky, Brandy, Cocoa, Choo-Choo, Ali and Cinnamon. One of those died when she was only two, and one lived to the ripe old age of 17. I remember each one of them, and I remember the special place they each held in my life.

Julie, however, is different than any other dog I've had. I can't say that I love her more, because I loved each pup deeply. I can say that I'm not sure that I've ever had a dog who loves me the way Julie does. Julie liked me well enough when Brad brought her home, but she adored Brad. And I do mean adored. She slept with him every night, followed him everywhere, and moped when he had to go to work or school. When Brad left for college and couldn't take Julie with him, she was one sad dog.

Then, one morning Julie woke up and decided that I was her new best friend. She began following me the way she followed Brad. She would wait until I was asleep, and then she would crawl into my bed and sleep with her head across my feet. When I had to go to work, she would tuck her tail between her legs and mope. I found myself looking forward to evening play time with Julie, throwing the Frisbee for her spectacular catches until she decided it was time to stop. Taking walks along the paved path across the street. And yes, talking to her as if she were human. (She does, after all, tilt her head and listen attentively!)

At this particular time in my life when my sons have moved out, and my daughter works two jobs and is rarely home, I spend a fair amount of time alone. I believe that God is the Creator of all things, and that He created animals, and dogs in particular, to bring a certain type of joy into our lives at times when we need that joy the most.

So, when I step out of the shower each morning and Julie is lying on the rug next to the tub, or when I come home from work and she greets me at the door, or when she plants a wet doggie kiss on my arm, or when I am sick and she sits patiently by my side until I am well, I thank God for my faithful furry companion.

As I finish typing, Julie is stretched out on the other end of the couch. Well, sort of, anyway. Her head is snuggled across my feet, and she's snoring. I guess it must be time to turn in for the night.