Who Are They?

In my case "they" are the voices in my head, sometimes drowned out by the music.  When Bessie Anne died, "they" and I had long conversations.  Should I get another dog?  If I get a dog, shouldn't it be a puppy?  At my age, would it be fair to the dog?  On and on ad nauseam.  In almost all cases, "they" told me no.

What I didn't know is that I needed GB.  He's got me talking, not just to him (which I do on a regular basis), but to people, strangers even.  I didn't know I needed an ESA (emotional support animal).  Who, me?  I'm doing just fine, thank you.  Yeah, well...he's got me out walking more every day.  I'm sleeping all night now, well into the daylight hours, instead of waking at 3 or 4 every morning.  He is "bright eyed and bushy tailed," to quote Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies, ready for whatever comes next, but is so calm and he has that effect on me, except for the bushy tail part.  Florence may not have had "an ulterior motive" (so she said) when she brought GB along on our first visit in years, but she did me the favor of a lifetime.  (And he gave me back my friend.)  What do "they" know?

GB likes to go for a ride, even if it's just down the road to take the trash down, which we did yesterday.  It's nice to have a companion even while doing such mundane chores.  He has learned my daily routine, probably better than I do.  First we feed the wild birds, then the chickens, then the goats and Missy.  He leads the way, except for the goats.  If he can't play with them, phooey on 'em.  He's waiting to go walkies now.

I'm going to stick to hearing music (Night And Day is playing now) and stop listening to "them."