Ever since our son Edison was born, I haven't written a whole lot about our other (furry) kids. Natural, I suppose—tho' we continue to love them and dote on them, there's no denying that someone else in the house now enjoys the lion's share of our physical and emotional attention.
But I just wanted to say how damn comforting it is—as I write this at 4am, having woken in a fevered chill from the flu and deciding that I could not spend one more minute tossing and turning in bed where I've lain since about 5pm—to have the company of my trusty old Shepherd Kirby here in the office. He's up, with his typical heavy pant, lying as close to my feet as constrained floor conditions will allow.
I've written a lot about Kirby… have I ever mentioned how smitten he is with me? I just wanted to say, old boy—the feeling's mutual.
(For the record, Polly, too is up, but—in her typical conniving fashion—really will just take any excuse to go outside in the backyard. So she's hovering and hoping. But I love her, too. And Dozer? Laying near his mama, as usual.)