I am a dog person.
I have written about my various dog escapades here numerous times… it is true. For those of you who do not love animals… other than the kind that comes on a bun…. please forgive me. I simply can’t help myself. (Oh….yes….. my contradiction of contradictions…. I like the kind that come on a bun too.) But not dogs. Well… unless they are hot dogs with mustard, ketchup, and the works. But dang it… I am getting off track again. You know what the heck I mean.
I am a dog person.
But it is much more than “owning” a dog. As I have come to find out…. I have never “owned” a dog in my life. I’ve shared time with them. When I first started out.. .. …. I thought I was a dog owner. Then I was repeatedly made aware of the fact that we simply coexist. Sure, I am the human. I have opposable thumbs after all. I provide a shelter and food and medical care. But that all was my choice… not the dog’s.
Given their druthers, they would probably live with their real Dog-Mom, in a pack with their birth brothers and sisters, in a world where they could run in green fields, and hunt squirrels, and chickens, and such. They could pee and poop when they wanted, and not on a schedule. No Sock-Monkey Sweaters. Those sorts of things.
Humans domesticated them. About 15,000 years ago. I am not complaining. I am glad for it. Because some of my best friends have been dogs. You see….. I am a dog person.
Some folks are strictly people people.
Some are cat people. Horse people.
Bird people. Ferret people.
Some are pot-bellied pig people.
You know who you are….
I finished a book last night called “The Art of Racing in the Rain.” If you are a dog person, you should give it a read. I was deeply affected by it. It reminded me of “beautiful, fragile, unpredictable, wonderful” life. It reminded me of my humanness. It reminded me to love with all my heart… even if it does hurt like crazy sometimes to do it.
I miss my Harley. I miss my Bess. They were both dogs.
I am certain that dogs have a sixth, or maybe even a seventh sense. They know the human spirit all too well. They sometimes listen better than anyone…. even though we can’t form the same words with our mouths.
Ha. And just now. Maxine never comes downstairs to the kitchen when I write at night. This evening, just 10 minutes ago, she hobbled her short little stiff legs down the steps, and asked me to lift her up on my lap. I think she knew what I was writing about. I don’t know how she knew… but she wanted to be near…. right now.
I think she could sense the heavy spot on my heart tonight. She came to ask how I was doing. And what a rare quality that true friends have…. not only do they ask how you are doing…. they wait to hear what your answer will be.
And that, is just one of the one-thousand reasons that I am a dog person.
I know so many. The other day I met a dog named Zoe. Beautiful, brave Zoe. The Guardian of the Boat. And yesterday, I met Jericho. Frat-House-Throw-Away. Handsome, fast, and strong Jericho. Maggie. Juliet. Toby. Lucy. Raskel. Chief. Pylon. Ted. Each with their own life story, their own little dog-hopes, likes and dislikes. Strengths, and fears.
I could write on for days about the Canis lupus familiaris. Yep.
Dogs are a huge blessing in my life. And for that…. I am grateful.