My friend and co-worker D has six dogs at present. When I express wide-eyed surprise, she tells me, sotto voce, “Oh, I’ve had many more than that!” And she has, too, but I sense that discretion makes her leery of giving an exact count. Even in an office full of dog lovers, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing!
D is, like me, a widow, but unlike me, she is not a recovering addict. When my husband died, I plowed into my addiction. I don’t need to tell you how that turned out! When her husband died, D channeled her grief into the loving care she gave to her dogs. Addicts just think differently, I guess.
However, we both ended up working in the same office, and I asked her today about her newest canine acquisition, a four year old female Giant Schnauzer she is fostering, named Brinkley. She is every bit the proud pet parent as she describes her newest “child.”
She tells how she and her husband loved and cared for numerous boxers and other breeds, and how much they enjoyed them together. Her eyes get a little teary as she tells me that when her husband died, caring for the dogs kept her alive. “They’re getting old now, and several have died over the last six months,” explaining why she felt the need for a new dog. “I’ll take care of them the rest of their lives–they deserve that, because they saved mine.”
