D is for Dog. I've never really been a cat person. Don't get me wrong: I would love to raise a lion from cub to beast and snuggle with it daily, but I really don't have the room and quite frankly, that is one litter box I don't want any part of. Not to mention, precious cub would grow into giant predator and would probably eat my dogs, and that would be no good. It certainly wouldn't make for a happy ending to this blog-post. In fact, it would probably eat me, making any further blogging impossible on my part. So...okay...D is also for Digression, it seems. Back on track, shall we?
I, like thousands of humans, have dogs. I have always had or lived with a dog, except for the four and a half years I lived with my dad, because my little sister was terrified of them (when she was but a wee tot, she got bit in the face by one). Anyway, over the years, I have learned a lot about dogs and -as it turns out- they have taught me just as much, if not more, about myself. At the moment, I have two dogs: a beautiful Golden Retriever that we call Baley (he also has other names like: Boobie, Boo-Boo, Fartie, and Bay-Bays) and a "yellow lab" whose official name is Doc, but he will also answer to Doctavius, Tater-Face, Tatie, and Monkey. They could not be more different in personality and demeanor, but the one thing they have in common is they would both die for me, my husband, and our son if the need arose. Even if the (hypothetical) danger presented them a steak-bribe, I feel pretty confident they would still put our safety first. Their instincts would tell them that members of their beloved family (pack) were in trouble, and they would fight for us; without any thought of their own safety, they would fight for ours. Their love is just that big.
And that's just it, isn't it? That's what makes dogs so incredibly stellar. They love us no matter who we are or what we've done. They are loyal in a way that most human beings cannot even begin to fathom, much less put to practice. And all we have to do to be worthy of such a love is love them back (and only a little, by comparison).
Every now and then, as I watch my dogs sprawled out on my king-size bed, leaving only just enough space for me and my laptop, it dawns on me that creatures live with me. Actual creatures, derived from wolves, live with us! They are creatures, yet they become ashamed and hurt when they have let us down, when we scold them. They seek forgiveness until it is given so that life -for them- can go on. And all the while, they have the ability to tear our throats out if they so desired (well, the breeds I prefer do; still, the little yippies could at least do some damage to an Achilles tendon or a big toe). But all they know is they love us and need us to love them. That's all they need to know.
There is so much more I want to say about the utter awesomeness that is the canine unit, but I am told that A to Z blogs are best if kept short, so I will sign off with this thought: I believe entirely that dogs were put here for us (whether by evolutionary prowess or divine command, I cannot say; though I suspect it's a bit of both). They were put here for us, and they seem to be aware of it. We were put here for each other, yet remain unaware of this point of existential relevance. And "experts" say that dogs have only a fraction of human intelligence. Is that so?
