Dogs are too good for us. They love us unconditionally, a sign of undying love in their licks and tail wags, whether we leave for a day or five minutes (and then come back). In heaven, it should be filled with tennis balls, treats to eat, and fluffy clouds to sleep on.
Dogs are too good for us. We don’t deserve their sweet, soft hazel-chocolate gazes. They love exercise; walks are the best thing ever. I love her soft little ears, her button black nose. I love how Charlie curls up on her soft bed, how she woofs softly in her dreams.
Dogs are too good for us. We don’t deserve their friendship; they are our hiking buddies, our companions as we eat, sleep, and wash dishes. Dogs are our comforters when cry and when we cheer.
Dogs are just too good for us.
Note: inspired by a conversation with a friend.