It’s interesting how a new layer of snow on an ordinary, nondescript object I pass by daily can become something picturesque, representing a completely different form. For example, the normally unnoticed shrub across the road from my house has no defining shape to my eyes. It’s just a blob, a large broccoli shape or the shape of my late Uncle Dick’s nose. But, with a new layer of snow on it, it takes on the unmistakable profile of a dog doing what dogs do in my yard way too often. It makes me want to go out there and yell at the bush. Some artsy types might say I’m seeing nature create art, but it’s not likely that I would consider any image, in any medium, of a dog crapping in my yard … art.
Don’t misunderstand. I am a dog fan and I love the critters. I prefer a good ol’ American mongrel over most purebreds. Mutts seem healthier and longer-lived in my experience, but your mileage may vary. I have no experience with today’s trendy designer mutts, so I can’t speak to those. But of nine certified American mutts we’ve rescued in the past 25 years, only one didn’t make it past the age of 15 and several lived to 17. All were great pets and companions.
I don’t view them in human terms as some folks do; that gives me the willies. Having raised children, I know the difference between dogs and deductions and won’t be calling them “fur babies” or “the kids.” I do love my dog, but in ways different from the love I have for my kids.
Dogs are a whole lot cheaper to have around than children most of the time, and none of them ever came home pregnant or in the back of a police car. We had none of those public vs. private school arguments with the spouse over Excedrin cocktails at 2 a.m. No clothing costs. No clothing, period. Glasses? Nope. Braces? Nah. Backpacks? Maybe, if your mutt is big enough to rock one. That would be the perfect place to carry hike essentials like Moxie and bacon sandwiches. Better pack some water for the dog, too.
Dogs perfectly fill that companionship role. Actually, they sort of overfill it, and that becomes obvious every time you visit the bathroom. Your dog is with you, even then, looking at you with big brown eyes of love, no matter what revolting digestive biohazard you are creating.
When the two of you leave the loo, be prepared to be looked at by others with less adoring eyes, eyes that silently but clearly say, “What in God’s name happened in there?” Pay them no mind. Your best friend will not forsake you, for you just reminded him of his favorite spot in the woods where that old deer carcass was found under the leaves. Real children, if offered the same olfactory experience, will leave the scene gagging and screaming for Mommy. At least mine did. It’s real funny until the Department of Family Services shows up.
We learned long ago the value of canine home security systems. Over the years we’ve only had one mutt that was inclined to bite first and ask for treats later. Almost all would alert us to the menacing encroachment of the big brown truck, or my sister’s car, or a squirrel on the wires. They are the alarm portion of our system, which activates the defense portion. That’s me, of course, but we may need to make some changes to the system.
My vision isn’t what it once was and my long-suffering wife, quite happy now that she has finished all the renovations she had planned for our house, doesn’t want me blasting holes in her perfect walls with my missed shots at bad guys. Clearly, her priorities are in perfect order, so I suggested we consider adding a dog to the system. This one would be a shepherd mix, a larger dog that might fill the role I now imperfectly occupy.
I think that is a better plan all around, unless the burglar throws a sirloin in ahead of his entry. In that case, we’ll probably be looking for Sheetrock repair and painter recommendations after Servpro leaves.
For the most part, the dog is just the dog. At the same time, it is one of the important things that has to be considered in every family plan or event, no matter how small. While technically not one of the children, a road trip can quickly prove otherwise. Your choice of motels won’t have anything to do with whether there is a pool or exercise room, attached restaurant, free Wi-Fi or late checkout. No, it boils down to this: Do they take pets, specifically dogs?
It was during six months of post-surgery chemo, when I was still working and trying to participate in life to the degree possible, that the unconditional and unfailing love from my dog was clear and constant. She never left me, though I was not hard to catch if I moved from recliner to bed. The bond has not diminished in the years since, and she still follows wherever I go.
She’s my best friend, even with all the hair and twice as many legs as most of my friends. Without her, I’d have nobody to talk to when I’m in the bathroom.
