Thirteen

Her last birthday. I feel it in my heart. But I cannot cry about it, not today, tears are for later, when she is gone. The day that I stop finding fur under the couch.

Today we celebrate life. The way that dogs do every day. Because they have no concept of death and they do not fear it. Dogs do not live in the past. They live for today.

We assign them "dog years" foolishly to mark their time like humans. Because as humans we are so limited that we cannot appreciate what it perfect about dogs. Their ability to start every day fresh. Ready to explore, appreciate the world, to forgive, to live anywhere and in any circumstances so long as they are among their family.

Maya loves with her whole heart. She trusts the trustworthy and does not forge relationships based on the vices that link people into unhealthy disharmony. No matter how much pain she is in, she follows me from room to room, constantly resettling herself at my feet; knowing where she belongs.

She loves a treat, a belly rub, and my children. She is ready to forgive me for not appreciating her enough. I hope she forgives me for keeping her here on the days where she is in so much pain that getting outside seems to be torture.

I cannot let her go. She is my best evidence that I might not totally fuck up this parenting thing. I love her more than words can say.

Dogs may be a man's best friend. But to a woman, they are far more; she is my soul mate.