In a brief few seconds floating up and away from sleep, I had a dog named "Sally" which had appeared in my house and was there to stay -- a short-haired, good-tempered, house-broken companion with a name that was both plain and sassy. Dropped off magically and without explanation. Someone or something knew I wanted/needed a dog and ... well ... voilà!
I wished I had a dog, probably a black or brown Labrador retriever and ... well, it would be companionable and my responsibilities would be minimal to non-existent.
I really wanted a dog.
My wife hit the nail on the head. "I'd just end up taking care of it," she said without rancor. And she was right, I imagine. But still .... Sally would be there to receive my touch and touch in return. "Sally" was all the good stuff and none of the down-side.
But for those few seconds, I was five and never would grow up.
And some lingering hopefulness knows I would never turn Sally away if she showed up.
I've got a Joshu, an Eloise, a Patty and a rocky, mongrels all. But they're not my dogs anymore. Because Felisha has more energy, she's seen as the human alpha. If she calls them they come. If i call them, they consider it.
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