I love dogs!
I have a special place in my heart for dogs. I feel that a lot of them have a special place in their hearts for me too. It is a close knit bond between us that over the years seems to have grown.
I don’t know what it is, but when I know there is a dog near me, they consume my attention. They bounce around and drool and bark and whine and lick themselves in many peculiar places, but none of that matters to me. I am consumed with their presence, and if they are anywhere near me, then I will do whatever I can to pet them. I can’t help it. They just seem to need a good petting.
Usually when I am aware of a dog near me, I break out in a heavy smile, and breathe in a deep sigh. They have placed a spell on me. I am a dog person, plain and simple. Even now, when I can’t see them, I can sense they are there, wagging their tail with their tongues hanging out, just waiting for someone to tell them that they have been a good boy or girl. It seems that they crave attention, and I am more than happy to oblige.
I know that there are many people that just don’t feel this way about the canine family, and I will never understand their state of mind, nor will they probably ever understand mine. It is just a difference that we have.
We have lived in this same house since 1986 and we have had a handful of dogs along the way. Our first was Barkley. I used to call him “My Barksey Boys”, and he would smile at me when I got home from work, and walked out back to let him off of his runner. I can still see him smiling and shyly looking down at the ground as I came up to him. He was such a good boy. They all were.
He was a husky/shepherd mix that lived to be 17, and when he left, I had a hole in my heart.
Then there was my Bubby Boy. Fletcher, our beagle. I used to tell my wife that I was pretty sure I loved him more than I did her. She said that she felt the same. I couldn’t blame her, he was just so damn cool. Snoopy could never hope to be as cool as he was, not even close. Sorry Mr. Schultz. He was our poop-a-doo, our bubbazess, our doo doo, our little Popo. He graced our lives for ten years. It was ten full years of a closeness that only he was able to bring us. He was the meaning of “Companion” complete. He changed my life, and I thank him for it.
The love that our dogs have given us is unmatched and unique. Whenever I have felt down, they were there to cheer me up. Whenever I was happy, they were there to share my joy. Whatever my mood, their love and devotion never swayed or faded or changed. They were always there to offer their unconditional love.
We have two dogs right now, Deena and Coco. Coco is a husky/black lab/Shetland pony, and Deena is a hair omitting skinny curly tailed lady husky that lets us lives with her. We are fortunate that she hasn’t gone up on the rent since 2008. Coco is just one of the happiest dogs I have ever had the privilege of getting to know. She has filled my heart with so many pleasant and wonderful memories. Just her demeanor is so uniquely care free and happy. She is very protective though, and our house is her castle. She is a sentry at the gate, and I truly believe she would guard it to the end. Thanks Coco.
The cats, well, that is another blog post in itself. I love my cats, but my dogs consume my attention. There is just something about a cold nose and a warm lick that starts my day off on the right foot.
I realize that everything we own is loaded with drool, and smells like a wet dog, and everything we wear is plastered with canine mohair. All I need now is an electric Zoot , and Benny and the Jets would be banging on our front door, along with Candy and Ronnie.
I love dogs, and always will. Their innocence and unabashed loyalty makes me feel somehow complete. I pity the person that tries breaking into our home with the two we have now. I just pity them.
There is only one thing that gains my attention like the presence of a dog. Well, I should say there is two things, well maybe three, ok, there are a lot of things that feel the same. When my wife smiles at me, the voice of my grandson, a hug from my son, and the sound of a puppy barking. Smile. See, I am smiling just thinking of it.
Puppies rule and I am a complete sucker for them. When I used to be able to watch them, I would smile and laugh uncontrollably. They still have the same effect on me now whenever I hear that cute as hell little puppy bark. I can just picture them hopping and falling over their own little oversized puppy feet. I can not explain it. ‘they are just the cutest damn thing in the world. A bundle of excited joy that seeps its way into my heart, and fills my soul with a smile. Thank you god for puppies.
As the old title of the animated movie stated, “All Dogs Go to Heaven”. I can’t imagine any other place where they would fit in. Nowhere.
I told my grandson Jack that all of our dogs that have gone to heaven are up there, running in a meadow, chasing butterflies. I could tell from the pause that he was picturing it. So am I.
We had several dogs when I was growing up. In Tucson, Arizona, we had a dog we named Figaro after the character in Mozart's "The Marriage of Figaro." I don't know what kind of dog he was, and I don't remember what he looked like because I was pretty little when we had him. He died of Valley Fever a year or so after we got him.
ReplyDeleteAfter we moved to Sheridan, Wyoming, when I was a freshman in high school, we acquired an Irish setter we called Clancy. His full name was Chem Shenanigan Clancy Leroy. In Irish, Leroy means king; Chem means Jim, and Shenanigan means mischief and mischievous he was. His favorite activities wer rolling in fish heads and cow pies and swimming in the creek. Needless to say, it was hard to keep him from smelling bad. We got him when he was a puppy, and despite being run over by a car twice and other mishaps, he lived to be about twelve years old.
Several years later after my brother and I had moved out of the house, my parents acquired another Irish setter, a female called Maud. Dad named her after William Butler Yeats' mistress, Maud Gunne. She wasn't nearly as mischievous as Clancy, but she loved to chew on things. She lived about ten years before developing cancer, and Dad had to have her put down.
Although my husband Bill would like a dog, I don't want the added responsibility of caring for him and a four-legged companion. After Bill had his first stroke, I told him that when he got to the point where he could walk and do more for himself, we could think about it, but that has never happened, and (I don't think it will.
Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of We Shall Overcome
http://abbiescorneroftheworld.blogspot.com
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com