Dogs don't fall in love. It has been said that a dog is a companion for life. Though a dog never forgets, a dog will forgive a stick thrown too far, broken promises of long walks in the sun or excessive journeys in the back seat of a car.

I unconsciously stopped scratching the dog as I glanced at the watch on my wrist. With a motion as dependable as my timepiece, the dog once again glanced up, his brown eyes searching mine. I got up from the couch and the dog rose with me, his tail moving from side to side, taking his hips with it while I knelt beside him, scratching his muzzle and telling him he was a good boy.

Dogs don't fall in love. Their rules are much less complicated than our own, their boundaries sketched smoothly in the sand, so easily changed, not painted permanently on concrete.

Lifting the carton my wife had packed containing the last of my belongings, I walked out the back door, closing it quickly against the shepherd's eager attempts to follow me. I headed towards the station wagon parked in the dirt driveway, leaving the dog behind.

by Bob Ratta

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