Dogs are worried about me

Dogs are worried about me.

Mal has started barking in my face

when I stay in bed too long or come home

and try to retreat under the blankets.

Sometimes he remembers

I hate barking

and just comes and licks my nose until I get up.

Make dinner.

Eat.

And then, finally, at an appropriate hour,

return.

Today,

I met a four and a half month old sheepdog

with piercing blue eyes

and the softest fur I’d ever felt.

“His name is Einstein,”

his new mother told me,

“he’s afraid, so I’m exposing him to new things.”

Einstein immediately

leaned against my legs so hard

he startled all of us.

His mom looked down at me as I scratched his ears and hugged him even closer

“Well…” she said.

“That’s different.”

I didn’t tell her how dogs knew

when we needed them most

because admitting that would mean

admitting how much I need.

The only dog I met today

that shied away

was a nine week old hunting dog-to-be

who was shaking on the sidewalk

from cold and from fear.

I think she knew

I was hunting for something

neither of us could find

and didn’t want to disappoint.