Generally speaking, I am NOT an animal person. Dogs have so many strikes against them. Needy, smelly, flea-ridden, needy, insatiable, needy, dependent, hair factories. . .That’s all my head talking. Then, there’s my heart. Who could resist those eyes? That full-bodied enthusiasm for the slightest touch or word of kindness? The undying devotion. The irresistible demand for more, more, more. . . .love me, love me, love me! Because I love you, love you, love you! You can do no wrong. You are perfect in every way. I’ll do anything you say, just love, me, love me, love me! I do have to admit, he feels good wrapped in my arms. He is such a satisfying love-bug.
And Cats. . .don’t get me started! While they aren’t nearly as smelly (most of the time), take better care of themselves, are much less dependent or demanding (most of the time), they have their own brand of disdain and moxie to deal with.
I’ve been pet-sitting this week. That is the BEST way to get your pet fix, almost as good as grand-parenting. Love ’em and leave ’em!
Chacchi, the white guy, is the sweetest, dumbest, most love-starved dog on the planet. Every morning I cover myself with a big blanket and sit down in the recliner and brace myself, Effie! He comes barreling into my lap and inserts himself into my arms, with his nose under my chin and snuggles down DEEP, nosing for more every time I stop petting and patting and scratching and embracing with such devotion — never enough!
Of course, Bruno and Miss Kitty are also in the lap. Good thing I have an ample one. Luckily, they are content simply to plop and chill. Because Chacchi takes up all the caressing.
Miss Kitty has her own brand of annoying, along with being the sweetest, most loving, trusting, perfect cat on the planet. Here she is, hiding in my quilt project, knowing full well she is NOT invited in my room because her curiosity knows no bounds and she is constantly climbing and knocking things off shelves and out of windowsills. I thought this was the perfect pose, though, and she is quite the ham.
I used to pray that I could be as noble as our old dog, Woody. He was a black lab/retriever mix, with all the brawn of a lab and all the feathers of a retriever. My son Ben came bounding home with him one day, with a red bandana tied around his neck. Some construction worker’s girlfriend had booted him and his dog to the curb, and he moved to a no-dogs-allowed apartment. We were already in a no-dogs-allowed house, and we had to move to accommodate keeping him. There was no resisting him.
I guess what I’m saying here, is that while I don’t want to be responsible, especially to dog ownership, I’m grateful for the reminders of why I don’t have one, and the ability to get my dog-fix in doable doses.
And the reminder that the mirror of god in a dog is not lost on me.