Now, grant you I am unmarried, officially speaking, though I share my life with a significant other by another last name. Good man. Cooks a mean BBQ dinner. Hasn't forgotten his manners. Washes himself consistently. But I'll admit to having to repeat myself on more than one occasion and not just when I'm (nagging) reminding him about something. My pup, on the other hand, gives a whole new meaning to "shut up and listen." Just last night, there I was collapsed in the easy chair, feet up, exhausted and indulging a bitch-fest. "Miley, you just wouldn't believe the week I've had. Work is draining me, the bills are piling up, the vacuum cleaner broke down, I've got a bit of writers block, and I found a new wrinkle I never had before." She didn't offer much in the way of advice, but she saw fit to curl up in the tiny space on the ottoman, just beside my leg, and rest her chin on my ankle. She shot me a look that said, "It's over now. You lived to tell. Let's just chill here for a while. It'll all be fine."
It was precisely what I was hoping she'd say. I rubbed her back. A few minutes later I gave her
a pat on the head. "Miley, thanks for never having anything better to do. You're the best."
She spoke again, this time with just a nod. "I hear ya'."
Better than diamonds by a country mile.