Why I like dogs
I was in a situation recently where I was about to be verbally attacked. That's not important. What is important is that there was a dog there. This dog knows me, and likes me, but usually doesn't glue herself to my lap. Yet this night she did glue herself to my lap. I was amused for a while wondering at the outpouring of love, but didn't think much of it at the time. And of course once the conversation turned nasty, I was aware that it was good to have the dog on my lap, because I had something to do with my hands, so I petted the dog as I got more upset. At one point she shifted around on my lap to face the other people in the room, but she didn't leave my lap until I got up to leave the room. I was telling my husband about the super-lovey reaction I got from this dog the last time I saw her, and how it was a little strange when I had an epiphany. She was PROTECTING me. This little ball of fluff, who might be 10 pounds soaking wet, knew the situation was tense before I did, and she chose to sit on my lap to guard me in the coming storm. And though I'm done crying over the situation; I keep tearing up when I think about this little dog and her loyalty to me. This is why I like dogs.