Every now and then, Dodger will come up and visit me in the attic.

That’s where my office is.

I’ll hear the tell-tale nails clicking on the steps as he comes up the stairs.

Sometimes he wants attention.

Sometimes I think he’s just checking in on me.

He’ll saunter over, wagging his tail.

I’ll give him some pats and then he’s back downstairs again.

Other times, he’ll mosey around the room a bit.

Looking for stray bits of food, I imagine.

He might go into the other room and lay on the bed.

The comfort of proximity.

It’s nice to have him around.

Deb and Tara like to tease me about how I didn’t want to have a dog.

And they went ahead despite my protests.

Of course, as soon as I met this little fella, I fell in love.

We’ve had him for almost seven years, now.

There are dog people and there are cat people.

And there are people that don’t like pets at all.

But I’m a dog person.

And I’m fond of this darn little boy.

He’s strongly motivated by food.

But he also likes his cuddles and snuggles.