A dog.

Remember when I did this post?

2½ months have gone by, and Ziggy isn’t any more accepted than before. He is still a bit unsure of me, because I don’t usually pay him attention.

This morning, I woke up feeling a bit uneasy about something I’d been doing over the last few days. Something I know is wrong. Very wrong. (Nothing illegal, please don’t start rumors.) No part of it can be justified by good reasoning, but I’ve been doing it anyway. I put the NASCAR race on, turned the volume up real loud, stepped out into the backyard, and took a deep breath to soak up a beautiful day. I spotted Ziggy laying in the corner, so I slowly walked up as to not invade his space. I sat down next to him, he laid his head down in my lap, and fell asleep. As I was petting him, my mind began to wander, and before I knew it, I was crying.

He looked up at me, sat up, and sat his entire body in my lap.

*Please remember, I am not an animal person. I don’t like dogs licking me, slobbering on me, jumping up on me, or getting their hair all over my clothes. But at that moment, there was something he was trying to tell me, and all I wanted to do was listen.

I continued to silently cry. I could see the other dogs were in their crates (RM#1 wasn’t home and crated them before leaving) sleeping, and my intention was only to try and form a bond with this dog. He shifted in my lap so that his head was leaning against my neck. Ah Ha! I got it. He was trying to hug me and comfort me.

Cool.

I started to talk to him. I started telling him about things I was thinking and feeling. I asked questions, and although he didn’t actually speak back at me, the expressions in his eyes gave me the answers. I cried some more.

This was the moment I understood what everyone was talking about.

A few weeks ago, I asked some friends, Who do you talk to when you lose your boyfriend and your best friend in the same day?

First response: “A dog.” Anyone that knows me, knows that would never happen. Today, I can say…

“Ayla, you were right. Thank you.”