This morning before dawn Katie and I are up and out the front door.  I’m looking for the newspaper, Katie is looking for the perfect spot.  We come back inside reluctantly, it is so warm out, and the moon and Venus in the eastern sky are beautiful.  But I must tackle that paper before I head for work this morning.

I sit down resolutely.  I think I can finish the draft before I leave for work at 10:30.  Something catches my eye and, glancing over, I see Katie standing there silently, one of her favorite toys held in her mouth.  She isn’t crying or jumping, or bumping me with her nose.  Just standing there, ears drooping, tail hanging down.  She seems to know that there won’t be any playing this morning. 

My heart contracts and I reach for the toy.  Sitting on the floor in the living room I toss it across the room and she joyfully bounces after it.  As she prances back to me, tail up, ears forward, eyes bright I reflect that there are priorities in life, and life is the first priority.

We play like this for perhaps ten minutes until she is tired of the game.  She sets the toy over in the corner and comes to climb on my lap, pushing her nose into my neck.  I rock her there for a moment and then she bounds off, looking for a new adventure.

I go back to work on that paper.  We are both content.