I have this gift I inherited from my late father – I basically have no anxiety. Sure, maybe normal stressors, but aside from some “lost purse” dreams, I don’t stress a lot – except when it comes to my four dogs (it was six but sadly we lost two seniors in the past six months).

Lord I am a mess. We have a fully fenced big back yard that I have checked inch by inch to make sure there are no escape routes, and yet I still panic if I don’t have them all in sight. I do head counts 10 times a day to make sure they are all accounted for. While lax in personal security on the regular, I practically barricade doors to make sure they can’t bust through and escape. The times I have left one out in the escape proof yard for like 20 seconds before realizing it, I do penance and double their treat allotment.

I am a little nuts.

In our western Kentucky neighborhood, half the people let their dogs run loose. It makes me crazy

We know our dogs so well, and when one is acting “off”, I frantically google symptoms while my husband watches me and shakes his head. Despite regular vet visits, I worry anyway.

I don’t think I’m alone, though, as pet parents go. I rush home from work every day, hate time spent away from them (even though my retired husband is home with them) and am anxious if I am gone too long.

My dogs need me, no doubt – but I also need them. In the end my anxiety is really about one thing: Love.