If you follow this website at all, you know my dog Norma died about six months ago.
Her passing carved me up, and I still get quite sad seeing her photo, or thinking about some of the quirks that made her, well, quirky. She was, without debate, a wonderful dog.
That said, after the pain started to lessen, we brought home a new dog. Her name is Poppy, and she’s a Bernedoddle. She’s also, at 6 months old, a major pain in the ass. Poppy eats the table, eats wires, eats wood chips, eats the corners of walls. She’s high energy, always darting from there to here, here to there. She’s also teething, which means she’ll bite the hell out of your elbow.
That said, I already love the girl.
As I wrote those seven words, I’m sitting at my office desk, and behind me—on a futon—Poppy sleeps. Her eyes are closed, her paws are out, you can see her little body rising and sinking with each breath. And, truly, it’s not unlike sitting alongside a roaring fire place, or sipping from a warm cup of whipped cream-topped hot chocolate. Being with a dog is soothing and comforting and warm. She loves you unconditionally and you (usually) love her.
I miss Norma.
But I’m happy to have another pet as accompaniment