Pet death isn't a tw here, so I'm adding it before I tell my story. Sasha is very close to death, and she's been my dog for well over a decade. I love her, but she's going to die soon. Tonight, I fed her, wrapped her up in covers, and placed her head into my pillow. I told her how much I loved her and cradled her.

Cue Bart, who is, to put it nicely, just not a smart dog. He's the dog who goes outside for a shit then sits in it. He's been separated from Sasha for a few days while I'm taking care of her, and he's stressed and confused. The breakthrough for me, though, just happened. He keeps pawing at me and acting confused, and even though I can never explain to him in doggo what is going on, he was being annoying and jumping on my arm and I calmly said, "Honey, I love you and I'm sorry, I'm just as sad as you are." I didn't yell at him. I didn't smack him away. I didn't dismiss him, and I gave him ear scratches while I cried. Somehow, it fucking hit me: I treat my dogs better and with more patience than my parents ever offered me.