You Take Care Of Me, I'll Take Care Of You

Let's commemorate these three dogs, okay? They're the favorite buddies of some of my favorite people—and they've all passed away within (eerily?) months of each other.

Bruno, you bit me once and I was always kinda scared of you, but you were a hell of a guard dog to Melissa and, when happy, the gentlest of giants.

Jake, you drank from the toilet, you dug in the trash, and you could swim-fetch a tennis ball for four hours straight. You were a magnificent beast!

Benny, ah Benny! Wasn't it literally just yesterday that you were calmly allowing Lefty to bark in your face and then sunning yourself regally on the mini ramp?

Friendship with animals is, maybe, one of the purist, most joy-giving things in existence. Dogs, though—friendship with dogs in particular. (Not the same as friendship with cats! Which is also good, but, you know ... different.) (I have never called myself a "cat person" or "dog person" and in general believe those terms to suck.)

Anyway, dog tails wag with happiness and hope; their soft coats offer warmth and comfort. We feed them, we exercise them, we command them to sit and stay and come—and then we tell them they're good. In return, they LOVE us. Pow!