I do not know why WOODY love me? No big reason to do so.


I DO NOT KNOW WHY WOODY LOVES ME

alan skeoch
July 2019



I do not know why WOODY love me, but he does.

He has no special reason to love me unless being taken for 
granted is a reason.
I do not spend a lot of time petting him as others do.
Even strangers  give him more attention than I do.
But he love me.
How Do I know that he loves me?
He waits at the bottom of the stairs each morning for me to descend, his  tail thumping
the floor or the wall.
And then as my foot touches the bottom step he leans into me…body tight and tipped,
tail whistling in its own created wind.
Ah, I know you think I feed him and that food is the love  trigger.
But I only feed him occasionally, maybe four times a  month.
Every other day Marjorie feeds him.
She also brushes him, walks him, doctors him when he has a sore paw
or an oozing coyote tear.
But he loves me.
Loves Marjorie as  well but she has earned his love.
I have not.
Yet he waits beside my truck lying prone on the green grass
anticipating a ride to nowhere in particular as long as it is with me.
And when I drive in the lane alone, Woody rushes out to
the drivers  side with his nose tight to the crack where the door will open.
He does this  every time I come home alone.
I might rub his  forehead  a bit but otherwise do not go crazy with affection.
But I know he loves  me.
Sometimes  he goes crazy when I pull in and he starts to run around
in big circles, all four feet in the air such is his  speed…he runs in great loops
around trees and buildings always  arriving back close to me.
He wears his joy in ways such as this
And when he disappears  and I call him with frustration in my voice
I always find he is just behind me…silently padding along as I search
for him with impatience in my voice.
Woody does  not like to be bad but he can be bad at times,
especially when we fail to keep the garbage high off the ground
or when a pound  of  butter is  left tantalizingly balanced on the edge
of the kitchen island.
He  will steal…temptation becomes just too great.
And when he steals and I get angry Woody drops to the floor
Rolls over on his back 
Offers his life
And rolls his eyes
Which makes discipline seem an invitation
For me to raise my voice in anger.
But he loves me still.
Why?
On two occasions I have forgotten he is with me at the farm
And driven part way home before reaching my hand behind me 
in search of his paw on the bench seat.
Most times that paw is present.
But twice, maybe more, it has not been there
And I have stopped, cursed, turned around and retraced my way.
Only to find Woody waiting for my return curled up on the farm porch.
He loves me…trusts me…with little reason to do so.
Love is one of the great mysteries of life on this earth.
The decision to Love is  a force more powerful than any other…stronger than greed,
anger, pride, self-obsession…
Love is irrational I think
For Woody has no earthly reason to love me so much.
I have given him no reason to do so.
And yet he loves me.
He does not expect me to change.
He does not want me to change.
He loves me as I am.
Why?



alan skeoch
July 2019

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