Some days we all need a friend, especially one that can just listen.

I love that dog.  The real one, not the stuffed one.  I had never liked dogs much until I met this one.  Let’s just say I had “bad” experiences with dogs.  Nothing scary, mostly just… gross.  Like the roommate’s dog who, in the middle of a two hour car ride, horked up a feminine protection product in the backseat.  Yes, it was used.  Did I mention it was 90 degrees outside?

Then there was the super cute dog named Petey.  We were visiting new acquaintances in the California countryside.  Petey greeted us at the car with lots of licks and kisses, like we were old friends.  He was so sweet and lovable!  Why had I harbored this apparently irrational idea that dogs were not indeed wonderful companions??  All was peachy until a small group went for a hike in the woods, man’s best friend at their side.  They hiked and talked and laughed and then one guy stopped to relieve himself behind a tree.  I don’t have to tell you what Petey then ate.

We didn’t let Petey lick our hand (or face) anymore.

Besides, I had always been a cat person.  Nearly every picture of me since I was a toddler includes a cat in my arms, curling around my ankles, or in my lap.  Had three cats after we got married.  L-O-V-E cats, that was me.

Then I met Kenzie the Wonderdog.  Best dog ever;  though admittedly I do not have much frame of reference.  Does not eat anything really yucky, not even those tempting treats in the litterbox (crunchy on the outside, chewy in the middle).  She is my constant companion, riding shotgun in the van any day that it is not too hot or not too cold.  I put the seat heater on for her in the winter.  I’ve lost my mind over this dog.

Best of all, she’s a really good listener.