Jacob has been staying in my place and after I’d fed him on one the mornings this week, I suddenly understood the sentiment behind the song I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.
He has to be fed at 6am in the morning, which is at least three hours before my usual morning wake-up. What I typically do is feed him, then crash on the couch. He often goes back to sleep as well.
One of of these mornings as I lay on the couch, I watched him curl up on his blanket and found myself unable to go back to sleep.
I just wanted to keep looking at him, his little paw curled up, the crook of his leg sticking out, the gentle up-and-down movement of his body as he breathed in and out.
Every time I look at him, I know that I would do everything in my power to give him a happy life. I wonder if loving a child will feel this way. The magnitude of it frightens me.
But then I think about this science fiction short story that I read when I was a teenager, in which a group of humans brought alien pets (dogs) back to Earth.
In the story, the dogs lived pampered lives. They got regular meals, were bathed by someone else, had comfy beds to sleep on. And whenever they wanted a treat, all they had to do was “shake hands”.
Thinking about Jacob, I wonder if that story has some truth in it after all. 😂