So this is Jamie, my Bichon Frise pup who's sleeping on her furry grey mat as I type this.
Sometimes I wonder how everything around her looks like from her point of view. If everything out there is overwhelmingly large. If she's happy where she is with my family and I or if she'd rather explore the huge world alone (or perhaps with other doggy friends). If she feels like a prisoner where she is, maybe?
She never fails to put a smile on my face and coming back home to her and her wagging tail has got to be one of the best things in the world.
Even though I constantly complain that ever since my family moved back to Singapore, the apartment is tons smaller and that you can't walk 2 steps without meeting someone, I'm kinda' glad. It also pretty much means you can't walk 2 steps without bumping into Jamie who'll do everything she can to get your attention - either by lying on your feet (on, not by), dropping her orange bone by your feet so you'd throw it for her to fetch or by following you everywhere you go for the next 10 minutes.
I love the times when I'd sit on the floor after a long, long day next to the powerpoint plug where my phone's charging and she'd scurry over to climb in my lap and snuggle there. As well as the times when you're sitting next to her and she casually gets up and gives you a few licks on your leg like you've done something great that deserves 5 gold stars even though all you've done that day is ignore her.
So this makes me wonder if they have emotions and feelings just like we do. I know she's happy when we come through the door. I know she's disappointed when we stop playing fetch with her after a while. I know she's surprised when I tiptoe to next to her while she's sleeping and scare her when she opens her eyes. I know she's ecstatic when we say the magic word "walk".
I do wish though, that I'd know if she loves me.
