He seemed like a safe bet, a living creature that would be hard to disappoint or inadvertently neglect when he wouldn’t even cross my threshold. When all he wanted was food and a few pats on the head, two meals a day, and somewhere safe and warm to sleep. But as he barks happily at my house’s opening front door and bounds back and forth with the kind of energy and strength he didn’t have when he first started living here, I wonder if maybe we’ve done more than just coexist. If maybe being with me has been good for him. If for once, showing something a little love in the way that I could hasn’t
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