After dinner, Sarah sits on the sofa and I sit on the floor as we talk, watch television or react to whatever the girls latest traumas are ... which they all deliver at the same time because each believe they're only children living in a home with other people ... making it more traumatic for Sarah and I.
Ignoring them, Goddess meanders over looking old, worn and thin.
"Hey Pup," I say though she is far removed from the tiny sad eyed Puppy rescued more than a decade ago.
The fluffy little face is now a greyish white, her dirty blond coat covers a bag of bones and she'd probably already be dead if Sarah didn't lavish her with the same loving concern she gives the girls.
Sarah gives Goddess a healthy diet of crazy expensive dog food and, while Goddess looks old, she acts like a teenager ... trying to steal food if it's left within striking distance, begging when it's not and longing for affection by slamming her butt into our faces ... just like the girls.
Rubbing Che in her belly, Sarah chides Goddess for jumping up as she opens a snack of Apple Sauce.
Grabbing the bag of bones, I pull Goddess back in my lap where she's loved to sit ever since she was a Puppy.
Golden Retriever mixes live until about the age Goddess is now.
Every day she's still here is a gift.
She and I have been through a lot of heaviness together before hitting the best times of life.
"Please God," I whisper as I rub her rib cage, "let her live to meet Che."
Goddess crawls out of my lap to lay beside me and under Sarah's feet hanging off the couch.
I am so thankful.
Life doesn't get any better than this.
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