What’s good about having a pet? Well, let me count the ways—though if you’ve ever shared your home with one, you probably don’t need convincing.
First off, it’s waking up in the morning and finding someone—wide-eyed, tail going like a propeller—already convinced that this is going to be the best day ever. Before coffee, before you’ve even remembered your own name, there’s this small creature acting as if the sun rose just to see you. And honestly, that’s not a bad way to start the day.
Then there’s the day itself. You slog through work, traffic, emails, and the soul-sapping noise of humanity, but when you open the front door, there they are—your furry fan club. They don’t care that your boss yelled, that the car needs new tires, or that your lunch was the sort of thing that made you regret your life choices. No, they just care that you’re home. Suddenly, the world feels alright again.
And yes, you’ll prepare their food, clean up after them, and—let’s be honest—occasionally bathe them when they smell like an old sock left in a rain barrel. But somehow, it’s fine. Because when that same muddy little maniac brings you a tattered tennis ball and looks at you like you’ve just been invited to the Olympics, you forget everything else. You toss it once, twice, maybe a hundred times—and in those moments, you’re both champions.
They get you off the sofa, too. Suddenly you’re walking again. Morning walks, evening walks, middle-of-the-night “oops-I-ate-something-I-shouldn’t-have” walks. And you know what? It’s good for you. A bit of fresh air, a bit of exercise, and the occasional chat with another sleep-deprived dog owner about the consistency of kibble. It’s all part of the grand adventure.
Then there are the quiet moments. When life has punched you in the gut and you’re sitting there wondering what went wrong—there they are. Not saying anything, not judging, just quietly being. And somehow that simple presence says, “It’s alright, mate. We’ve got this.”
Having a pet teaches you something, too. You start caring for this fragile, joyful little thing, and before long you find yourself looking at the world differently. You start noticing every living thing—the birds, the squirrels, even the neighbor’s cat who clearly hates you—and you start to care. You build empathy without even trying.
But above all, it’s the love. Honest, pure, and entirely without conditions. You can be wrong, grumpy, late, or hopelessly flawed, and they’ll still greet you like you’ve just returned from saving the world. Sure, the vet bills sting a bit these days, but you pay them, because that love—unquestioning, uncomplicated, unstoppable—is worth every penny.
That’s how my little Georgie makes me feel. Every single day.
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A Kings 
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