He took out his guitar, strummed it once or twice and started and stopped his way through a couple of songs.
After the dog came, left and returned to the room he put down the guitar and asked his furry friend if they could talk.
“You get credit for being the best listener. You don’t wait for me to take a breath so that you can tell me what you think I should say or do and you don’t stare at your phone and make me wonder if you are listening.
There is value in that. There is merit in that. There is hope in that. Too bad the hope comes from a dog, but you are man’s best friend now aren’t you.”
He stopped speaking and waited to see if the dog would respond but he never did.
“You know it would be ok for you to say something. I wouldn’t mind. You have spent all sorts of time listening to me, I would listen to you. But I am not sure I could take your complaints seriously because you live the kind of life we should all live.”
That was followed by another pause and more silence.
“Hell, you aren’t going to answer are you and I am not much in the mood to say what I want to say to the people who need to hear it. We make quite the companions now don’t we. I don’t know how to describe it all, but I suppose if I did I would say it could be something like “Maybe a Jim Croce Song.”