Part of a Pack

There are many days when I don't know if you could pick me out from the pack that lives in our part of heaven. Yes, it is Iowa. Like Black Dog, I anxiously await the arrival of any of the pack members when they have been absent. I dance in delight at what is the best part of the day - breakfast and dinner. I search out an idle hand for a caress or a hug. I long to nap and read in quiet corner. Like the Golden Retriever Vegas, the original rescue dog, I have my completely obsessive compuslive moments. Find squirrel, find squirrel, find squirrel, watch squirrel, watch squirrel, watch squirrel, chase squirrel, repeat. I am chasing code most days but it's the same concept. Our hair coloring is similar and neither of us is particularly keen on grooming it. But for the pack that surrounds me, I would be lost most days. They ground me; Remind me of what's important; Teach me how to be a better member of the pack. A pack. A family. I love mine.