The Version of You Your Pet Knows
The Ridiculous, Authentic Self Your Pet Knows
I talk to my pet like a drama queen — and it’s glorious.
Here on the couch, with a snoring terrier on my lap and mismatched socks on my feet, I speak in whispers only he understands. I declare the tragedy of a lost blueberry and the majesty of a nap in a patch of light. I wiggle, I sigh, I blink slowly in imitation of his blind trust. This is where I am allowed to be ridiculous, because love looks like a scruffy face pressed into my knee.
What I'm Into: sunbeams on the carpet, dramatic declarations about snacks, the weight of a sleeping pet, mimicking slow blinks, laundry-scented afternoons
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