Yeah, I talk to Jamaica. A lot. She puts up with it as I tell the story over and over of bringing her home as a tiny puppy from the pound. She has the same "whatever" look on her face that I'm pretty sure that I always managed when my mom told me stories about my childhood. You know, my bronzed baby shoes and almost dying from the tonsillectomy. Of course my mom spoke to me in English, my native tongue. Jamaica speaks DOG, mostly.
She sure is a good girl. I've learned more about love from the dogs and cats in my life than from all the Sunday School lessons put together. I'm rich with love.