There are dogs. And then there are dogs. Hazel is the most special animal I’ve ever called my own. My wife and I adopted her from humane society last week. They said she was a stray. So we’re not sure what her background is at all. We know it’s the most adorable chocolate lab we’ve ever seen, and now it’s home forever. Your eyes radiate happiness.
But this is where it gets hard to explain. Hazel can sit, stay, and all that normal jazz. But you need to understand that I was in a car accident over ten years ago and I’m still struggling with my balance most of the time. I have a traumatic brain injury, but it has not noticeably affected our relationship. However, the balance problem is a daily disaster. But here’s the thing: From day one, Hazel knew my problems instinctively and waited upstairs on the stairs to make sure I was over. Then she trotted down, tail wagging and smiling to do whatever I had planned.
It’s much harder to understand. If we’re walking in the back yard off the leash, Hazel will be shooting left or right around me, not getting in my way if I trip or fall or whatever popped up, and with her smiling face ready to be the side of I ascend It’s hard to visualize, but the result is that a cheerfully smiling face greets me every day. I’m a writer, and when I finally sit down to work Hazel has a bed under my desk that she enjoys writing. Her companionship requires virtually no maintenance, and we love her as the child we have always wanted. My injuries made human children appear unnecessarily dangerous.
When all is said and done, Hazel is the answer. And her eyes will tell you almost anything you want to know.