Homing Device

Back when I travelled a lot and my marriage had ended I wondered, from time to time, where home was.  But my Fox Terrier, Henry, had stayed with me and I realized eventually: home is where your dog lives.

Maybe not meaningful to those poor souls who don't have a dog or cat or someone else who provides love (in the dog's case, unconditional; in the cat's, more measured) and whose daily life is generally geared to yours.  Maybe it can happen with something unconscious like a plant or inanimate like a house, but it never did for me.  What mattered, what still matters, is another thoughtful animal to whom I say goodbye when I leave and who greets me warmly on return.