Woof Woof

Yes, I know the title of this is elementary, but I couldn't think of a more sophisticated title. I only knew that I would end up talking about dogs.

Bebo Dinkins is curled up in a ball next to me on the couch with his head resting on my left toes. Bebo is a chihuahua, and if I am not mistaken, he is Helen Dinkins' favorite "person" in the entire world. It has been an odd adjustment for me to have him around since I was never allowed to have a dog indoors at home. He barks when I come down the stairs each morning and when I run back up them. (He's too plump to follow me.) He greets me each evening at six o'clock when I come in from work. The first few weeks, I thought I'd kick the dog out of the house and let him feed off of the stray cats running around Monroe. But after a while, his canine voice became routine and comforting. When the Dinkins went out of town last week and took Bebo along, I would walk in expecting a sharp bark... but instead, it was an empty and silent entrance.

This, I feel, is the purpose God created for pets. Welcomes. I want a dog. I am single, and I want a dog in my life so that it can fulfill its purpose as I fulfill mine. I want someone to welcome me home, to take care of me, for me to take care of in return, to share unconditional love with, to feed, and to fall asleep with someone else in the room for a change. And I thought I needed a man. Now I know -- I just want a dog.