My dog Pete is dead. The house feels empty. I feel sad.
For twelve years my Fox Terrier has been a loyal witness to a life writ small: part of my everyday domestic life - the cooking and eating, reading, sleeping, the brushing of teeth, the washing of dishes. His enduring wordless companionship helped me through bad times and added joy to the good. He took me beyond my own front door and connected me, when I most needed it, to the life of street, park, hill, river, beach.
Looking after him reminded me to look after myself - what made life good for him, shelter, food, warmth, security, company, exercise, rest, stimulation, purpose, made life good for me too. Pete’s unselfconscious enjoyment of the everyday taught me to relish the simple pleasures of life: a patch of sunlight; good food; a warm glance; a loving touch; a cool drink of water. Nothing very spectacular, but knitted together these moments make a life.
Looking after him reminded me to look after myself - what made life good for him, shelter, food, warmth, security, company, exercise, rest, stimulation, purpose, made life good for me too. Pete’s unselfconscious enjoyment of the everyday taught me to relish the simple pleasures of life: a patch of sunlight; good food; a warm glance; a loving touch; a cool drink of water. Nothing very spectacular, but knitted together these moments make a life.
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