The love of a dog is a pure thing. He gives you a trust which is total. You must not betray it. – Michel Houellebecq
Grissom has been with us since birth, having also his mother in our care. He grew an attachment to me and for the past five and a half years, he has been my constant companion. My day starts with him laying next to me on the bed, stretching long with an anxious look on his face. As I put on my robe and my slippers, he gets excited and jumps around on my bed, inevitably waking his aunt, a female from the same litter his father came from. She curls herself up by my feet under my bed sheet. She will give a big yawn and I swear she smiles at me every morning. As I climb the stairs to my kitchen to make my morning coffee, I have three dogs nipping at my heels, excited for their morning routine. But it is Grissom who waits for me patiently as I make my coffee, it is Grissom who rushes to the front door as I walk outside to retrieve the morning paper upon my driveway, it is he that waits to escort me back down the stairs to my room while the girls rush downstairs, the one waiting outside my roommate’s door where she sleeps (for she has adopted her as her human and they are the best of friends).
I cannot imagine my days without my Grissom, I cannot imagine how drearily boring life would be without my beloved four-legged friends.