Kingsley

One of the things that brings me great joy day by day is our wonderful golden retriever – Kingsley. At this moment his heavy breathing is accompanying my typing as he lies in deep slumber beside me, damply rumpled after a morning walk in the rain. I say deep slumber yet as he sleeps his agile face is on the move, raising one eyebrow then another, waffling his nose as if he’s sniffing out a rabbit. His doggy dreams seem to be populated by wondrous things.

He will be 3 years old this August and we have had him since he was 7 weeks old, although we first glimpsed him when he was only 2 weeks old – a funny looking little blob of life. Neither John (my husband) nor I had any previous experience of living with a dog, being far more cat people if the truth be told. Now we are wholehearted converts to the canine companion community.

Watching him grow, adventure, explore, experiment and learn; training him to understand and respond to us, sometimes successfully, sometimes not so much; seeing him leaping and bounding and rolling and chasing with exuberant abandon; sharing soppy, contented companionship – all these things have enhanced our lives enormously. He makes us laugh, he gives us exercise, he changes our perspective, he brings us comfort and he connects us with other people.

He is wonderfully demonstrative and tactile. Is there anything like a doggy welcome home to boost the ego, warm the heart and convince you of your great significance and worth? And I’m sure he seems to sense when I am down. I have received so much reassurance from a paw offered and rested on my knee, a head rested weightily in my lap, or a warm, furry, doggy body laid across my feet, against my legs, as close as close can be.

In his own inimitable way, he brings love and comfort and springy, joyful life into my world and I am filled with thankfulness.