That's the way it is.

My neighbor Connie has two boxer dogs. Frisky dogs. One of 'em in particular likes me. Gives me effusive greetings. Jumps up on me. Maybe that embarrasses Connie. But she needn't be embarrassed. Because I like effusive greetings. Particularly from a dog. That's a sign that the dog is happy. And likes me. I like the dog, too. Of course, I also like docile dogs. And I like cats. Have two of 'em at home. Loverboy and Chenuska. Used to have dogs. But now I'm down to cats. I like animals. Maybe more than I like people. When one of my pets dies, I grieve. Go into full-scale mourning. I cry. But if a human friend or acquaintance dies, I'm more accepting. I may grieve. Usually, I don't shed tears over it. Maybe my grieving priorities are awry. Out of balance. Not right. But that's the way it is. --Jim Broede