Once a long time ago, I saw some PBS special which showed Pompeii, the Titanic, or Atlantis or some buried place on earth. Next to the skeletal remains of people were their dogs. You’d see human skull then dog skull — human spine, dog spine.

At the time, I couldn’t imagine how — seeing the end coming — your dog would be right there next to you. I would certainly think your cat wouldn’t be that close.

But, now I think I’m getting it. A queen size bed isn’t big enough. Often I wake up in the middle of the night sandwiched between two dogs. Right now one’s under my feet — the other behind my chair.

My dog (Foley, that is) even has a trick for laying at our feet when we aren’t home. She carries our socks around — yes socks, clean or dirty — it doesn’t matter — chooses a spot to lay down — places the sock under her chin and rests.

If you’re walking around — she needs her socks. There’s a lot of agitation on her part when she can’t open the closet door and get socks out of the hamper. Alternatively, you see her digging around the laundry basket — looking.

Do we need them? I don’t know. I know they need us, our smells, our habits, our routines. And if the end comes, I suspect they’ll be right here.

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