For The Love of Dog
I have given up all pretense that my dogs don’t run the house.
I’m well aware that, according to dog trainers, dogs like rules and boundaries. People say that about children too-though I’ve yet to see it play out in real life. I have, however, seen some world class temper tantrums when a 3 year old is told not write on a wall or a steak knife is removed from the hands of a 5 year old chasing after his little brother. So as far as I’m concerned, the whole rules and boundaries thing is still just a theory.
Sometimes my dogs will bark a little longer than absolutely necessary and generally they will try and jump on the company — but it’s because they are so happy to have visitors — and, frankly, my feeble attempts at discipline can barely be heard over the din of their welcome.
In part, I blame the mailman. I do. Six days a week, the mailman nears our door, and six days a week, the dogs bark like lunatics in their valient effort to sheild us from the lurking evil, and lo and behold, the mail man goes away. As far as Charlie and Lola are concerned, they are doing a fantastic job protecting the homefront. How, exactly, am supposed to combat that? (Please note, that was rhetorical; see below)
In case you’re wondering — I have gone through training, more than once. And I learned a lot. I’m simply not trainable. Alas, my dogs will not be sleeping in a crate. I’m sure there are a ton of “pro-craters” who will come at me with all sorts of reasons why it’s better for the dogs.
Please, don’t. I’ve heard it all.
At the end of the day, I just want to be able to snuggle with my dogs. They make me happy. I like that Charlie knows to kiss me on the nose to make me feel better (but not to try and slip me the tongue because I actually DO have a line and that’s just gross) and that Lola makes “nests” out of the covers — even if you’re also trying to use them.
No doubt my dogs are spoiled — if they are on the couch, I will contort myself in an effort not to disturb them (a practice my husband finds absurd and in which he will not participate). And while there are days when I will forget to have a decent meal — I never forget to feed the dogs and give them expensive, non-GMO treats, even as I scarf down some random protein bar out of a promotional gift bag. I just want happy dogs that act as if I’ve been missing for weeks when I come out of the shower after 10 minutes. I can guarantee there isn’t a teenager on the planet, who doesn’t need cash, that is that excited to see their parent after 10 minutes.
As dog people go, I think I’m pretty reasonable. I don’t dress them up — not even for Halloween. I once tried to put a yarmulke on Charlie, but I don’t think he’s Jewish because he violently rejected it — ruining my planned holiday card on our first year together. I felt I had to respect his beliefs, whatever they were, and I’m not particularly religious anyway — I just thought it would be a cute picture. That was the end of any type of “dress up” for dogs in our house.
I do talk to the dogs; I never think they are talking to me. I only sometimes think they understand what I’m saying — I imagine it’s mostly like the Peanuts cartoon where they just hear “blah, blah, blah, blah, Lola, blah, blah, blah.” Occasionally, I feel like they’re ignoring me on purpose.
I admit, at times, when my friends share photos of their kids, I will whip out photos of Charlie and Lola. It’s only fair. At least I don’t throw birthday parties for them. In truth, I don’t really know when their birthdays are. And that’s one of the best things in the world about dogs — they love me so much, as long as they have the best spot on the couch, or bed, are fed and walked, I can forget their birthday year after year, and they will always be beyond thrilled to see me — even if I just went to get the mail three minutes ago. I don’t know anyone else that gets that much joy out of just the sight of me.
