“Didn’t you have two dogs?” our interviewer asked me before we went on the air.
“Yeah, but we lost her back in November,” I started. I usually leave a pause after that to give the other person an opportunity to stop me. It’s a courtesy I’ve developed for people who don’t really want to know. He took the bait.
“Ah, well, one is more than enough,” he said. I started to object, but he beat me to it. “Sometimes we can be too greedy for love.”
I started to tell him that we’ve been stopping at humane societies and pausing at community boards filled with dogs needing homes. But I only opened my mouth to hear myself say, “Yeah. I guess so.”
I am greedy for love. I am greedy to have her back again. I am greedy to fill the space she left.
She was greedy for love, too. I don’t know the science of it, yet, but I am suspicious that love does not conform to the normal laws of emotion and physics. I am suspecting that being so greedy for love has somehow morphed to make one more generous.
I checked the local shelter this morning.
One greedy bitch seeking another.