They say dogs are “man’s best friend”. In our case, they may be the only children we ever have. For those of you following either of us on Facebook, you know that last Friday we came very close to losing Barney, or so we thought.
Luckily, Barney was given a very positive prognosis, and the goodbyes we were preparing to say never came to be. Barney is getting better each day and is slowly becoming a total spaz again. But this “near-death” experience kind of got me to thinking about my feelings toward dogs in general.
When I was born, my parents already had a dog, a black fuzzball named Mandy. When I was two, they got a german shepard named Coke, so I pretty much spent my early childhood with dogs around. I loved Coke, Coke loved me, and wasn’t afraid to maul girl scouts or tear a woodchuck in half with his jaws if he felt they might get in between us. Still, his natural protective instincts aside, he was a very good dog, as was Mandy.
Mandy was older and died when I was almost eight (I think she was about 27 at the time). Coke got bad arthritis and was put to sleep when I was ten.
After that, we never had another dog. We did rescue a stray cat and kept one of its kittens when I was a teenager. Both had their lives cut short by feline leukemia.
As time passed, having a dog almost seemed foolish to me. I looked strictly at the logic of it. Why would anyone want to buy this animal to live in their house, possibly get into things they shouldn’t, just so they can walk it and feed it? Jerry Seinfeld had a routine on one of the “Seinfeld” episodes saying that if aliens ever came to our planet, they’d think the dogs were the ruling class, since the humans were doing their bidding. I had developed the same way of thinking.
Then I met Jenn, and then Skeeter, and I really warmed up to Skeeter pretty quickly without even having to try. He may not love me like he loves his Mom, but we do get along and I love having him around, except for maybe when he’s being an asshat. When we were engaged we decided to rescue a dog, and right after we got married we adopted Barney. It didn’t take long to love him, either, despite his early escape attempts. And then of course, there’s my “boyfriend” Chandler who allows Stacey to take care of him for as long as she has my sacred blessing (ok, kidding…well, sort of).
And now I can’t imagine life without Skeeter or Barney.
I think what it boils down to for me, is that no matter what the logic is, it’s natural to love dogs as pets. They may be work sometimes, and they may act up, but they need us to live, or at least to live healthy and happily, and they always love us back. They keep us company, try to cheer us up when we need it, and do their best to protect us (well, maybe not Skeeter, but a lot of them do). And it’s always sad when they die, so Skeeter, Barney, and Chandler (and Spock and Gryffindor, my mother-in-law’s dogs) are required to live forever. End of story.
