One Thing I Know For Sure




Is that I don’t want this dog.

I don’t like little dogs. I’m not even sure they are dogs. I like a dog like my first dog from when I grew up on a farm. He looked like a dog. He acted like a dog. His name was Shep. He looked like Lassie but shorter hair, as he was a Collie/German Shepherd mix. All dogs were mixes of something back then and there.

This is a little white furry thing that weighs about ten pounds. She doesn’t bark she just sort of yips. She’s called a Maltese and she has to go to a beautician to have a bath and a hair cut.

She is always about two inches from my feet so if I am walking I am stumbling over her and if I am sitting I find myself resting my feet on her.

She needs a home as she belonged to my friend who recently died. I am sorry as this little dog is the only one that was able to stay awake all night every night with my dying friend, but…

One thing I know is that I don’t want this dog.

Her eyes are always on me. Like, always on me. All I have to do is look at her and she wags her tail.

She loves being touched. She loves having my hand on her; either petting her or simply resting it on her is enough. She doesn’t need constant attention Twenty-five hours a day is enough for her.

One thing I know for sure is that I don’t want this dog.

She never messes in the house. She jumps up and down to let you know she has to go outside. Then she circles until the job is done. I wish I had known this when I worked as a nurse. Instead of enemas and Milk of Magnesia I could have had the old people spin in circles.

When I get my jacket for any reason at all she is thrilled. She thinks there is a chance I am taking her for a walk. If I say yes, she explodes with delight. If I say no she lays back down with a look of unmistakable sadness.

If I get up at night to go the bathroom she comes from the other end of the house to be with me.

One thing I know for sure is that I don’t want this dog.

As I write this, the thought crosses my mind, “Where is this dog now?” I look down and find her under my feet.

One thing I don’t know for sure is that don’t want this dog.

This entry was posted in Stories, Thoughts and Reflections, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to One Thing I Know For Sure

  1. Deb Phillips says:

    Looks like she’s smiling at you!

    Sent from my iPad

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s