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Thankful for the Animals
|Saturday, November 25, 2006|
|I am up far too early, woken by a sound or a worry I dont recall; I am often a restless sleeper and tonight is not better or worse than most. As I do on most nights (admittedly a bit neurotic, but those who love me do find a way to forgive my eccentricities) I make the rounds of the house to make sure all is well.|
I climb the stairs to my daughters room. The lights are out and the door is part way open. The snoring is, fortunately, not coming from Hannah. That mass of white and black hair, reflected in the streetlight and moonlight pouring through the open shade, tells me that Archie is in bed with Hannah. It is his favorite place to spend the night, asleep with his girl, nestled close.
Adolescence is a hard time of a humans life, and Archie is a loving constant in the rollercoaster of my daughters ride. He couldnt care less about the things that drive her, and her parents, mad. He only cares that she is here, safe, within his reach. This once abused dog, so frightened when we first met that I truly did not know if he could be saved, rests beside her. Always, perhaps even more so this Thanksgiving weekend, I am thankful for the dogs.
I walk back down the stairs and discover that any thoughts of returning to my bed would mean wrestling with our other dog, little Frida, who somehow manages to spread her beagle-sized body across every inch I would normally take up. Her face is snuggled up against Carolyns cheek, one paw and forearm resting on my wifes shoulder. They breathe together, synchronized, not at all a surprise in light of their remarkably close relationship. I am thankful for the dogs.
The couch is comfortable, and I settle down under a few throw blankets, convinced I likely wont fall back asleep. Suddenly the morning light begins to wake me. Still groggy, I notice that the blanket over my chest and neck is especially heavy. And it is purring.
Tsimmes and Isabelle are wrapped in each other, wrapped in the blankets, wrapped in me. As I start to stir, Tsimmes responds by my grooming my left ear. It tickles and makes me laugh. All in all, a far better way to wake up than with the usual alarm clock. I am thankful for the cats.
I stumble over to the window and remove the towel which covers Leslies cage. Leslie the parakeet has lived with us for about a dozen years, having hung in front of windows in two States. Relentlessly cheerful, she greets the morning with a happy little song. I am thankful for this bird, and for the birds we see outside the window.
I am thankful for the animals, for the many gifts they give us. For love and friendship, warmth and laughter, song; for the way they add to family.
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|Category » Ken White|