always... it's the effort that counts
always... it's the effort that counts
“Fur is — harrrrrrrrd!” Thalia whines. Her patience for tiny lines is shorter than the tiny lines themselves.
“Yes. It is.” Nia nods her agreement and looks at the clock.
“We can always come back to it later?” Cal shrugs. “Although… I believe our friend Patti will feel the love in our attempt.”
He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me… whenever… wherever – in case I need him. And I expect I will – as I always have. He is just my dog.
~ Gene Hill
LOVE your Gene Hill quote! 💚
And your paw is delightful!
Gene Hill’s statement resonates. A suggested title? “Why I Wish I Were More Like A Dog” It reads like a living definition of “Fido.”
We, often secured under our patchwork quilts of conditional love, suspicion, judgment, fear, and the collection we might call ignorance, should be sent to dog training school. To train humans to be more dog-like.
I’m fortunate to have a dog teacher. My 3/4 poodle doodle dog Izzie mourns when Beth leaves for work. Sometimes all day. Listless, won’t eat, finds the spot on our couch where Beth usually sits and curls up thereon. (Yet manages an enthusiastic greeting every time Beth returns, and takes her one of her favorite toys!)
As comfort, for both of us, if I’m in the recliner I welcome Izzie beside me. Her head on my thigh. What is the cost to me to offer her tender heart contact and warmth? I sometimes forget not all dogs’ lives are like hers...
Before I forget, your dog paw drawing is pawfect. Hands down. 😁