Cora Lowe was the first one I trained. She had her forgetful times (I'm thinking senior moments here) but really, she meant well. I always had a nice place to sleep, special food, and a succession of admirers when any of her friends came to visit.

She was great, but - let's face it - a tiny bit staid. As in, set in her ways. But also forgetful - which is a strange combination. I've heard people say that nouns are the first to go and in her case, I can confirm it. At the end, Cora's disability caused her to forget all about little old me. Naturally, I had to forage for myself. I'm proud to say I'm nothing if not a survivor.

My next responsibility was someone who seemed, at first glance, 180 degrees the opposite of Cora. She was far from staid, and had the badge and gun to prove it.

When I found out that Dana led the adventurous life of an FBI agent, I was overjoyed. Finally - someone to discuss an exciting day of law enforcement, instead of the latest Lawrence Welk duet. She took her responsibility towards me seriously. She either was there for me 24 hours a day, or arranged for my care when she had to go out of town. Her substitute (an older woman) spoiled me rotten, so much so that I didn't overly regret Dana's absences.

Ah, but when Dana was home, life was perfect. The lingering baths, deep muscle massages, cozying up in bed with her on the weekend - what could be better? She'd absently brush back my hair as she described her latest thrilling case in narrative detail. No, Dana never treated me as less than her intellectual equal.

Which made it all the more galling when I realized that I had a rival for Dana's affections, a tall man who kept interrupting our moments of convivial bliss.

The selfish bastard has been dragging Dana away from me all week.

First, Dana rushes away - leaving only dry food behind - because she feels compelled to scurry to the tall man's apartment. No explanation, just breezes out the door.

When she returns, she's surprisingly quiet. I bump against her as a friendly reminder of my companionship, but she ignores me. When I finally get a look at what she's got clutched in her hand, my hackles rise. It's a crude drawing of the devil. She murmurs the tall man's name in a sad sighing voice - and I get the sinking feeling that my rival has become Dana's sun to my moon. I also can't prevent a whine of despair escaping my lips as I contemplate the fact that tall man might be dragging my caregiver into some kind of trouble.

Dana sleeps restlessly that night, my comfort ignored. I sense storm clouds ahead. Will she be able to find my faithful port in the midst of her turmoil?

No she does not. In the next few days, Dana is absent in spirit even when she's with me in body. Her loyalty to me has been divided and ultimately fractured by a man drawing crazy pictures. How can she do this to me? What the fuck is she thinking?