Larry Benjamin. Wordsmith. Writer. Author.

I took our dogs for a walk at the pet cemetery at Laurel Hill today. The visit left me oddly emotional. Now, we go to the people cemetery for walks fairly often and those walks don’t make me emotional. As I stared at the little grave markers, tears burning, refusing to fall, I wondered why. As a writer of gay romance , I write about love in all its expressions; yet it occurs to me that the purest expression of love is that of a carer for their pet. Love for a pet is almost entirely altruistic , for the adopted is unlikely to elevate one’s social standing or increase one’s financial bottom line. For our part, we lay no expectations at their feet—there is no expectation of a college degree earned, nor of grandchildren produced. Instead, we embrace our pets in all their cat and dog-ness. Their being is simply enough, the very hallmark of unconditional love . And when their time is up and the loan that is their life with up is called, they go, leaving behind a little dagger in our...