Gracie

My dog, Gracie. She's so sweet. I wish you all knew her. When we adopted her, they said she was a lab mix. That's how she was labeled. It's pretty obvious she is mixed with pit.


People look at her. Some ask, what kind of dog?
Others think she is full pit. Some even are scared of her.
Pull their dogs close to them.


I don't understand how people judge. Just like they judge me and my relationships.
Judge colors and religions. Disabilities and income levels.


Gracie would lick you to death before she would hurt anything.
Her tail is a drum, music always when she is around. Eyes of happiness
every time we walk in the door or throw a toy or give her a pet.
Simple. Joy.


Tonight she is calm. Lays at my feet. When I get up, she follows.
I sit back down, waiting for Liz and watching a documentary
about Iraq. Compelling.
I call her up on the couch - she isn't a big fan of the couch.
She leans on the back of the couch, facing me. I have my face close to hers, our
eyes interlocking.
I am giving her small pets on the side near her ear. She looks at me and gives me one lick.
Just one. This is unlike her usually, but when she's calm she controls her licks.
So appreciative. All the love she has for me and us, her owners, in that lick. I tell her I love her. She knows.


I have different relationships with each dog - like kids almost, but not. Pets.
They fill my heart.


I feel like Gracie is my soul mate dog. We are all connected.