Dogs or cats?
I use Jetpack on my phone for blogging, and every day I get a writing prompt from them. I have not yet used any of these prompts to fuel blog posts (they are generally kind of mundane, everyday questions.) But this one…hah, well this one, it calls to me. Not because I feel strongly about one over the other – I love them both, and if I could, I’d also have a cat. (Severe allergies prevent me.) So no favoritism here!
Except…
Felix! How can I not prefer my Fee, my FeeFee, my Feefers over every other animal alive. He’s a big Foof. A major cuddlewhore. He was my best friend when W died, keeping me sane. Oh sure, he’s an asshole when he barks at everyone and everything, but mostly he’s my bestest good boy. My pupper. My office buddy, my pal.
He waits every morning by my office door for me to start work, and spends his time going from the couch to his bed in my office. He barks his fool head off at the whole world outside his yard, because everything he can see obviously IS his world, and he is our protector from it.
I got him when he was about 6 months old. He was being fostered in a house with two other pit rescues and a chihuahua at the time, and they claimed he would be medium size, which Adam required. Well, he was medium size, for about 6 more months. Or maybe they meant medium height. Which he is. But he weighs 75 pounds. They also said he’s good with other dogs, having been raised with them. He’s not. But I still love him. How can I not? Just look at that face.
He’s been with us for 10 years now, and he is starting to show it: some grey in his muzzle, achy joints when he gets up. “Hey there old man,” I say when he greets us at the door, moving stiffly but wagging happily. I don’t know how much longer he’ll be with us, my I am grateful every day.
