My Dog will Guard My Place

My Zoe Dog willingly rolls over on her back , spreads her legs and wants me to rub her tummy. I approach this situation with caution. I ask myself, what is in it for her what is in it for me? My dog is not holding a gun to my head, she is not holding me for ransom, she does not require love to live. She gladly accepts my care and attention to her needs - she does not whine or upset my equilibrium to let me give her love. She totally accepts my attention, or lack of. When I look in her doleful eyes, I feel joy and sadness that she willingly accepts my love regardless.

It seems strange that I can deserve the love from an animal.

For all the inabilities that restrict my acceptance of my rightful place on this earth - I never cease to wonder why my pet shows endless obedience and devotion to the 85% bag of liquid that I call me.

I call her 'Little Wolf' because she would sacrifice her life to protect me, but I continually disappoint myself in my efforts to prove that I can even protect myself. I have been so disciplined to accept that I am a subservient to the debilitating training program of the human race, that I momentarily forget my duty to care for for those who become victims of my inability to give love.

Why does it seem so easy to share my heart with an animal when I feel so alienated from the human race? She accepts the fact that I have the ability to kick her around the room like a football, but I know that when she folds hers her ears back - she is scared - and I know that she needs my assurance that everything is OK even though I'm pacing the room as though there are demons pursuing my soul and the end is nigh.

If I were to die comatose on the floor, trying to breathe, spewing up my soul; do I lie here gasping and sucking my last breath through a haze of confusion because of my inability to accept that no one said "thank you".....?

No. There are not many who will appreciate my contribution, and there are not many who will sit with me while I pass away and lick my face while I die.

My Dog does not ask much - in fact she asks nothing at all - except allegiance - she would rather die for my cause than me.

I am continually at a loss to understand why my dog will accept my faults and indiscretions and the human race will not. But I will not relinquish the capacity that I have, to extend my compassion for the inadequacies that I have the inability to control, understand or appreciate.

When I die; I will feel the moist licks of my dog most.

Most of humanity will be to too ready to judge me, or praise me, or condemn me, or pity me, or dip their grubby little paws into the meager goldmine that will pass to my descendants.

My dog, and only my dog, will lie beside me and guard me from predators - she has an innate understanding of how precious I am. She will kiss me and protect me because I gave my life to her.

Even when I am gasping my last breaths and cannot stroke her head as I am dead, my dog will guard and protect what she knows is precious and she will not let you near my stagnant body as I regretfully pass from here to there.

Even when I exit from here - my dog will guard my place.