RUSHVILLE — I’ll begin with, “I’m sorry”. To those of you who don’t like cats or dogs; my apologies. To those who tire of reading yet another blip about someone’s beloved feline or canine; sorry again. However, I’m still going to write. After all, this is my writing.
In order to protect the privacy and dignity of my companions, I’ll refer to them by the names “Doodles” and “Kruncher”. Doodles is certainly no ordinary cat. She strolled into my life one day five years ago and absolutely turned me inside out. Kruncher is in most regards a very common dog. Loyalty is his middle name (it should probably be his first name).
I had been married for eleven years when Kruncher entered the picture of our family. We had known countless dogs in prior years. But the circumstances surrounding how we got Kruncher at the age of twelve weeks were heartbreaking and set the tone for our resulting relationship. Our family suffered a tremendous and unexpected loss when Kruncher was about six months old. As if he knew what was going on, he simply sat with me for hours at a time and let me grieve. Unfortunately, loss seemed to visit us in a variety of ways over the next several years. Kruncher remained steadfast and was my faithful friend. He never showed disappointment in me (even when I honestly deserved it). I might have been late taking him out for “yard patrol”; better known as potty break time. I know I even forgot to feed him on multiple occasions. It didn’t ever seem to matter. Unconditional love was waiting for me.
Now Doodles is an entirely different story. Her method of therapy came from a very different school. Doodles, like most cats, is of the opinion that I am blessed to have her in my life. Now although I don’t disagree, I can never let her know I feel that way. She needs no encouragement. If I’m having a bad day, she believes that one of several different approaches will be appropriate. She may find her way to me and rub against my arm or leg; obviously her sheer touch of awesomeness will make everything better for me. As quickly as she comes she goes. There’s also the approach of “no approach”. She doesn’t need to be bothered with my miniscule problems. There’s absolutely no need for her to expend the energy to get off of my neatly folded pile of clean laundry or the back of the couch where she’s sunbathing. Simply being in the same house with her should suffice.