She wasn’t my dog. My wife always has a black Cocker spaniel and I inherited the problems of living with animals when I married her. She was really good about cleaning up after the dog (and cat) whenever they barfed or had an accident on the floor. Always cleaning up in the back yard. After all, Daphne wasn’t my responsibility. There was always the problem of how to get a house sitter to take care of her whenever we went on our month vacations to Europe. She was always underfoot, making sure to lick up any bits of food I would drop. She was very French in the way she would sit in the chair while we had our dinner, not saying anything, just kind of wishing she could be like us and eat all that good food. But, no, we always held out and fed her only in her little dish on the floor.
But all of a sudden she’s gone. Why am I all choked up and teary eyed? I never asked for her undying love and adoration. Her only ambition, other than breakfast, was to follow Joy around, up and down the stairs, her constant companion when she was close. Daphne never gave up trying to get me to show her some love or affection, but no, she wasn’t my dog, I didn’t need any of that.
But I miss her terribly. When I open the front door, her little white snout isn’t there anymore. When I’m in the kitchen, she’s not there to pick up little bits I drop . I kind of miss those big brown mournful eyes watching me, hoping I would show just a glimmer of appreciation of her.
Well, Daphne, I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, but kind of late, isn’t it?
