Pets always give me the details that their parents need to hear. I don’t know which detail matters. Often, they are the most innocuous little things. It can be the color of a sweater, or a favorite place or smell. The clues are tiny.
And then, when I talk with the pet’s owner, I’ll say something, and then I’ll hear a catch in her voice. She’ll suck in her breath. Suddenly, the conversation turns real.
Today, I talked with a dog that had recently passed away. He showed me a tropical garden, beautiful and lush. He said, “Tell my mom that it’s warm, but it’s not too hot. It’s just right for dogs.” I didn’t know why this would matter. For Gizmo’s mom, this little detail meant the world to her, because they had moved to Florida, and she always worried that it was too hot there for her dog.
I’ve learned to not assume I know what matters.
