Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Doggone


Little did I know that less than three weeks would pass after a column published that talked about our aging Airedale terrier (Bring on the Kleenex, Jan. 3, East Oregonian) that we'd have to have him put down.

(As if you couldn't figure it out — that's Jai and despite his size, he desperately wanted the benefits of a lap dog. Although he detested the yapping of little ankle-biters).

It took even longer for me to be able to write a follow-up column. For people who say, "It was just a dog" - well you'll never understand.

The absolute unconditional love I've received from my dogs over the years is amazing.

When I come home from work, sure, my husband is excited to see me, but it's always the dogs that are standing at the door to the garage, moaning with glee. When I've been gone for the weekend, their intensity is kicked up a notch and upon return from vacation, honesty, I don't know what prevents spontaneous combustion from excitement.

I am the prehistoric canine goddess!!!

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