We take them out because we feel guilty. Uncomfortable emotions well up in our insides as we gaze into their eyes. Proficient in inflicting guilt. We bring them along, into awkward spaces, in the backs of cars, held up high in our arms they gaze out over the precipice of our shoulders. They find precarious places on the floor. Stepping over, amongst, and around, we find our weaved in between them. Their snoots shoot out into common pathways. We move and mill about them almost unaware. Caught up in our own games and musings. A trust so pure they don’t even flinch with the grazing of their fur. Risking it be at the center. A masterful display of falling in and out of slumber. Seamless existence between both worlds. A lullaby of all our voices in concert. Quiet contentment. Watching them I can brush against the edge of understanding. How little might be required to have enough.