My Dog

She is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. She is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. She has told me a thousand times over that I am her reason for being; by the way she rests against my leg; by the way she thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way she shows his hurt when I leave without taking her. (I think it makes her sick with worry when she is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, she is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, she clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, she is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, she ignores it. When I succeed, she brags. Without her, I am only another woman. With her, I am all-powerful. She is loyalty itself. She has taught me the meaning of devotion. With her, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. She has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. Her head on my knee can heal my human hurts. Her presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. She has promised to wait for me… whenever… wherever – in case I need her. And I expect I will – as I always have. She is just my dog.

Gene Hill