Then: My first family dog was named Queens. She was an English springer spaniel, white and brown, beautiful and well trained. I remember that every day, I would come home from school (this was early elementary school) and she would be out in the backyard. Trained not to run away, she would sit in the middle of the yard, along the pathway as my sister and I came through the gate. Once it was closed, she would run over to greet us. That sense of regularity and comfort is a wonderful thing.

Memories are faint, but after she passed away, I remember feeling so alone when I would get home from school and the yard was empty.

Now: My landlords have a cat named Bob. He is orange and very affectionate despite being a somewhat outdoor cat. He sleeps and eats inside, but spends his days exploring the front and backyards, particularly the front garden. Around dusk, he loves to sit near the top of the stairs looking over the world and his garden.

When I come home around this time, he watches over me as I come in and close the gate, then as I walk into the garden, he comes down the stairs to greet me.

It's nowhere near as regular, but every once in a while, when Bob is there to greet me, I can't even explain how warm and wonderful it makes me feel.