Many
of us share our homes with dogs. Other animals, too, but this is a
dogblog. Thus the name. So, I would like to find out why, at least
here on Whidbey Island: Why do you live with dogs? Don't be shy.
I'll just ask for a show of hands, then.
Well,
seems mine is the only hand up, at this point. Possibly because I
have only just created this blog. So, I'll go first then, shall I?
I
like the way their paws smell: earthy, musky, well-travelled.
Really. Have you ever just flopped on the floor with your pooch and
taken a deep whiff of a paw? That smell seems the very essence of
who they are in this world.
I
like their pure, unbridled joy when one of us comes home, whether it
is from a (rare) vacation, a day at work, or just coming back from
the recycling center. They are thrilled at the reunion. Sara (our
border collie/flat coat retriever mix) is so elated, she has to trot
around the house with a toy in her mouth, squealing in a
glass-shattering pitch for about three minutes. Cooper (our
Bernese/Golden mix) whines like a puppy and collapses for a belly
rub, tail thumping the floor. When Sara gets ahold of herself, her
squeals turn to yodels. Or “oodle-oo's,” as we call them.
Between the “eeeeeeeeeeeee's,” the “oodles” and the dull
thud, thud, thuds, we have quite a nice serenade welcoming us home.
Every time. Without fail. No matter the hour.
I
like their daily reminder that now
is all we have. When stress gets the better of me or I find myself
worrying about what might happen, I try to remind myself to look at
my dogs, and see that they are not bogged down with the what-ifs and
wherefores and what-might-a-beens that plague us. I am not very good
at this. But they are. Great teachers, eh?
So,
your turn. Why do your couches and beds have dog hair on them? Why
are your floors decorated with muddy footprints, and why do your
doorways have a jumble of old towels and leashes hanging within easy
reach? What possible reasons could you have for sharing your
home with dogs?
