Thanks, Lucy

Each morning when I lift the lid of my iPad part of me is holding my breath. What horrors of human depravity might await me? What events hatched overnight from the four corners of this world will threaten my life and livelihood? This morning was relatively normal. The conflict in Gaza threatening to evolve into WWIII, the Maine shooter found dead at his own hand, Matthew Perry found dead in his hot tub.

This morning’s stories were made easier to process by the presence of…my dog.

Lucy picks and chooses her days. She doesn’t always hop up on the sofa beside me as I drink my morning coffee and read the news. She is a notoriously late sleeper, not a morning dog. But occasionally she finds her way downstairs and takes her place beside me as I read. More times than I can count Lucy will let out a loud and long sigh at the precise moment when I have discovered a particularly disconcerting story of man’s inhumanity to man. Unimaginative people will dismiss this as coincidence. But dog people know better. We understand this as more proof that dogs are angels. Each time I hear Lucy sigh I look at her and give her hip a scratch and I am comforted. I am reminded that she has everything that she needs, a warm house, loving people, good food and yummy treats at the ready. And so do I.

Thanks, Lucy