It all started on Boxing Day when me and the family met along our Christmas walk this most handsome cream Lab bounding around, ever obedient, performing to whistle commands.. "sit", "stay" "fetch" "wait!", teased mercifully by his handler until given the command which released him and all his pent up energy to jump into the lake with gusto to collect his 'quarry'.

He was the kind of dog that people stop to admire, and we did.  Our paths kept crossing as we walked around the lake and we got chatting to his master and mistress.  He wasn't really interested in us, only in running with his nose 1cm off the ground, and waiting for his master tor make another throw. But eventually we were introduced.  "This is Marley" to which my mum and aunt replied in unison "oh, is he named after "the" Marley"?

And so I was given a well read copy of "Marley and Me - Life and Love with the worlds worst dog" by John Grogan.

It's not often I can't put a book down.  I'm not a dog lover (cats rule in my book) and I would have possibly have veered away from the book fearing senitmentality.  But this was a book I looked forward to picking up. A book I made time for a long bath to soak in.   I laughed out loud, text my mum and aunt to give updates on which antic I'd reached, and couldn't wait to find out what disaster lay ahead. 

Until the last few chapters, when I dreaded reaching the inevitable end.  I put it off until I had time proper time and space to read the final few chapters, with a pack of tissues forwarned.

Tears ran down my cheeks hitting a cord on so many levels.  Strange as it sounds, I'd become fond of this dog, and of John and Jenny, their happiness and sorrows.

I think like all good books, it struck something deeper.  Somehow there was a connection?  It made me think about my own life, loves and losses, Granddad at the fore. 

And it made me soooooo appreciative of my quirky two kittycats, their characters and mannerisms and the love and life which we share. 

The way they both greet me and visitors at the door... BigBoy saying hello when he walks in a room, shouting for his dinner, snuggling under the duvet, claiming a lap for the evening... LittlePoppet climbing on the highest vantage point to paw the air until you stroke her, her fierce independence contrasting with her joy of being in your company, following us like a shadow, tapping our foot to stroke her or play fetch (yes she is a cat, but a very clever cat!) or making her own entertainment playing on her own with her ball up and down the stairs or in a shoe or bag.