Maria and I both have wicked colds; she is sneezing, and I am coughing (all day and night). I stayed in bed a couple of hours after sunrise (and missed a beautiful sunrise), and Zinnia, faithful as always, stayed by my side, keeping a close eye on me. Zinnia is a profoundly loyal and loving dog; whenever there is trouble, she stays close. I’m up and moving; I suspect we each gave the other a cold. It’s a lot better than a concussion. I’m back at work. Raw honey helps. Maria is exhausted, but she is hardier than me right now.

The highest compliment I can pay any dog is to call them a spirit dog. Spirit dogs are mystical to me; they come when needed and leave when their work is done. They come to mark the passages of life. At this time, I’ve been sick or recovering on and off for months. It’s all looking good, but Zinnia is just the dog I have needed during this period; she is always by my side, paying attention and offering love and comfort. Like Orson and Rose and Frieda and Izzy and Red, Zinnia appeared when I really needed her and will hopefully stay on. Either way, she is a spirit dog in my mind now, and I am grateful for her. She overflows with kindness, patience, and love.

This morning was just the latest example. There were many more.