I have a tattoo of my dog. It is not a small tattoo, its a portrait, its on my left arm, it looks just like him. Its a 6 inch watercolor portrait of the most important being in my life. But, “What about your husband,” you ask. You’re comparing apples and oranges y’all. BUT, you say, a TATTOO of your dog, YEP, and here is why.

I am home alone, A LOT, my hubs and I work different hours the majority of the month. I get up, the bed is empty, he comes home, I’m gone, and vice versa. I thought I was used to being alone, after all I did it for almost two decades, but this time, alone is different. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I hate it, its depressing and I’m sad much of the time. My friends are in different states and counties, or they only communicate via social media. The one thing that keeps me sane, the thing that gives me a reason to come home, yep, you guessed it, my dog, Chops.

Chops is my reason for living some days. Most people don’t understand me, at work they either like me or they hate me, sadly much of the time, its the latter. I don’t relate to people, in person, really well. It takes people awhile to warm up to me. I’m wound pretty tight, I wish that wasn’t the case, but years of incarceration can do that to a person.

For the last three years, I come home and none of that matters. My dog is my best friend, Chops keeps me alive on a daily basis. I spend more time with Chops than I do any other person in my life. Chops is my buddy, he loves me when I say all the wrong things, when I’m wound super tight or just hanging out. Dogs are amazing, they have no judgement, no animosity, they hold no grudges. Chops does not care what I have done, where I have been, or what my record holds. He knows I feed him, love him and that he is my favorite.

I love my husband, but I know he can go on living without me. He did it for 37 years before we met, he can do it again, (not that he will have to) but not Chops. Chops and I have a bond like no other. He’s giant 85 lb. block-head that nobody understands better than I do. He trusts me and relies on me everyday. Chops trusts me so much, he lets me chew on his cheek, he loves it and I know he would never hurt me. We’re the perfect misunderstood pair, a “pit bull” and his “felon.”

Why do I have a tattoo of my dog you ask, because my dog keeps me alive. He needs me in a way that no other being does and I need him. As long as I have Chops, when I am home, I’m never alone, our conversations always make sense and I never feel stupid, just loved.

The tattoos on my left arm cover the scars of self-mutilation, they are dedications to second chances: a phoenix feather, a Rumi quote, “You’ve Seen My Descent, Now Watch My Rising,” and Chops, my watercolor savior.