So there I am the other night, watching the season three finale of AMC's brilliant series, Breaking Bad. I'm absolutely riveted to the murky screen of my 16-year old RCA, holding my breath while waiting to see if Jesse kills Gale (I'm one season behind because I watch it through Netflix, so don't tell me what happens!).
Suddenly, I sense I'm being watched.
I turn to my right and there's my greyhound Elvis, lying on his La-Z-Dog Recliner next to the sofa, just as focused on me as I am on the TV. He's watching me with such intent adoration, I can practically see little hearts shooting from his eyes. This pup deserves a kiss.
So I stop the TV, lay on the pillow next to him and hold him tight, peppering his needle nose with kisses. It occurs to me that if I could get a man to look at me the way my dog does, I'd be the luckiest woman on earth.
Then Elvis tucks his knobby little head under my chin, leans against me, and heaves a sigh of contentment. And I realize, I already am.
1 comment:
I quite agree with you; if I ever had a man love me like my 2 dogs and 1 cat do, then I would date again. Meanwhile, I now have the honor to have my mother's dog, a 5 yr old Bichon, my son's dog, a 6 year old Sheltie, and my 12 year old cat, Rocky. I am dreading the day that their little bodies leave this earth because I never loved any animals such as I have loved these. Maybe it's my age and I am more sentimental now but reading your columns in the Chronicle have made me so happy knowing that others love their pets as much as I do.
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