For the last several years, Charlie and I have been volunteering at Casa de Modesto (a multi-level, senior care facility.) Charlie is a licensed "Therapy Dog" and we visit the facility twice a month. I always enjoy the visits (and Charlie LOVES the attention) and most of them are fairly routine. Since the residents are advanced in age and in various degrees of health, we get asked the same questions over and over again: What's his name? (Charlie) Is he a boy or a girl? (Boy) What kind of dog is he? (Labrador Retriever) How old is he? (7 in May) Is he your dog? (Yes) Have you had him since he was a puppy? (Yes - 6 weeks old.)
Last week, we were going through the usual litany of questions and one of the residents took it a little further.
HER: "Wait! Are you telling me you've had this dog since he was 6 weeks old?" ME: "Yes!" HER: "You LUCKY BITCH!" ME: (After a brief moment of shocked silence, followed by a howl of laughter...) "Yes I am!"
I prefer BLESSED BITCH but I knew what she meant and she was right! She was reminding me of the privilege I have owning and loving this wonderful dog. She went on to tell me that he loves me and I love him and again I could not argue.
She was absolutely right.