When I woke up this morning I looked over the side of the bed at the two dogs sleeping beside me. Comfortable, safe and dry in this rainy weather. Sleeping peacefully with heads on pillows or rugs, all bought or made specially for them.
But I wasn't thinking of them as being the lucky ones.
I am.
I get to love them. I get to be trusted by them. And I get to be entertained endlessly by their antics. The silly way one scratches himself - like he really needs to get dealing with this itch out of the way because he has something more important to attend to π or the adorable way the other yawns - because she's just that cute π
There's also Ms Helga, murderer of mice and unashamed Chief Cuddle Bug of this household.
Every fur child I've ever had has been, in one way or the other, a pile of silliness packed into a fur suit.
And this is why they have my heart.
