Even when he wasn’t my dog, he was my dog. When we were far apart from each other, sparated by an ocean and a continent or two, I ran into dogs similar to him. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened. Stopping for a minute to pet the other dogs brought me comfort, and I was with my own dog again even if I wasn’t. Just a few words, a question, maybe more than a question, something like: How old is he? What is his name? made me miss him a little bit less.


One Response to “Even”

  1. alex Says:

    it always gladdens me when I read one of your posts about your love for Rubio. He was so lucky to have you as a friend.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: