King "King Daddy"🐾

The screen door would creak open and I'd already be there, tail going like a metronome, ball clenched between my teeth. That was my invitation — my way of saying the day was too good to waste indoors. Twenty-three years I perfected that routine, and I never tired of the weight of that rubber ball in my mouth or the arc it made against the sky when someone finally took it from me and threw.

I ran the house, I'll admit it. Not in a tyrannical way, but someone had to keep things organized, and I took the job seriously. Every room had to be checked, every arrival noted and properly greeted with the full force of my tail. But my headquarters, my command center, was right there by Harmony's feet. That spot on the floor held the particular warmth of her presence, and lying there, I could feel the rhythm of the household moving around me. That was my comfort zone — close enough to know everything, calm enough to let it all unfold.

They say I smelled like happiness, and maybe that's what a life of fetch and sun and being exactly where you belong does to you. I was smart enough to know what I had. Every morning the light would slant through the windows, and I'd nose that ball across the floor toward whoever would play. Love isn't complicated when you're a dog. It's just showing up, being present, carrying your heart in your teeth in the form of an old tennis ball. You could feel it radiating off me, that simple truth — that being together was the whole point.