I met you at the pet store. You looked at me and I looked at you and I smiled a warm smile.
“Would you please let me see that dog right there,” I said to the man behind the counter, pointing to the cage on the opposite side of the room. The cage was nestled between a husky puppy and the other neighbor, I can’t remember. Can you?
You were a half pint. You didn’t flop around like a turtle, or hop and scratch like a bunny. You didn’t wiggle like a kitty cat. You didn’t squirm and slither like a fish. You sat still as a silver coyote climbing a mountain, like you were waiting to hear something. I held you against me, cradling you in my elbows and we became snuggling pals.
What did you do?
You took a deep dog breath out, closed your eyes, and $600 didn’t seem to be too much money.
I love you,