Why do we choose to own dogs?
Why do we welcome them into our once-upon-a-time-dog-hair-free homes?
Why do we tolerate them when they eat Littlest's favourite socks (always just the one sock from each pair)?
And why when the gnomic postman comes with his jumpy, bird-like, nervy twittering to the front door do we secretly wish that we weren't so understanding of his fear of dogs? And that they'd run out and bowl him over and lick him into liking them? Sadly, like a foundling bird handled lovingly but a bit roughly, I think he would die of fright before any 'liking' occurred.
I can think of several reasons for owning a dog and none of them has anything to do with finding the whole postman-being-afraid-of-dogs thing fairly amusing.
First, there's their eyes. Nothing looks at you with that total I-know-where-my-next-meal-is-coming-from devotion. It's easy to convince yourself that it's you they love and to seek evidence for this delusion in the tale of the Skye terrier Greyfriar's Bobby but loyal Edinburgh dogs aside it's the food and the provider of food that they are devoted to. As the day nears supper time, my two four-legged shadows get under my feet, follow me to the loo (they sit outside!), position themselves between me, the potatoes, the peeler and the bin and lie directly in front of my every step.Until I fill their tummies. Then as far as they're concerned I can do anything, go anywhere as long as I don't interfere with their need to sleep.
Second, is their faith. Blind trusting faith. No question. No argument. They believe in you. And knowing that is humbling. It rekindles a little belief in yourself.
Third, is that they effortlessly provide an ice-breaker. People open up and talk. About their dogs, about your dogs, about the pets they had as a child.
Fourth, is that they are therapy - for all the reasons above. Pat a warm head and the worries of the day seep away. Dogs make you feel better about yourself. They calmly sit by someone who is ill. A dog resting its head on the knee of a sick child, takes away the hurt and the pain. That's why they are used in hospitals and care homes. Even when Bertie Baggins helps himself to the newspaper and shreds it, that moment of anger is swiftly displaced by amusement at his expression that says "Oooh no, this wasn't me mum. Honest mum. It shredded itself!" And that amusement equals therapy.
Fifth, is that they are good for your health. Walk a dog, run with it, play Frisbee. Get out and get some fresh air and exercise.
Sixth, is that they make you laugh. Did you know that dogs can climb trees?
Seventh, is the company. I garden with my boys at my feet. I write as they lie on my toes, keeping them warm. I load the washing while they 'help' by pulling socks out of the basket. Together, we watch for the postman, crouching behind a hedge, ready to pounce ... no! No, no, we don't.
But it's an idea ...
Why do we welcome them into our once-upon-a-time-dog-hair-free homes?
Why do we tolerate them when they eat Littlest's favourite socks (always just the one sock from each pair)?
And why when the gnomic postman comes with his jumpy, bird-like, nervy twittering to the front door do we secretly wish that we weren't so understanding of his fear of dogs? And that they'd run out and bowl him over and lick him into liking them? Sadly, like a foundling bird handled lovingly but a bit roughly, I think he would die of fright before any 'liking' occurred.
I can think of several reasons for owning a dog and none of them has anything to do with finding the whole postman-being-afraid-of-dogs thing fairly amusing.
First, there's their eyes. Nothing looks at you with that total I-know-where-my-next-meal-is-coming-from devotion. It's easy to convince yourself that it's you they love and to seek evidence for this delusion in the tale of the Skye terrier Greyfriar's Bobby but loyal Edinburgh dogs aside it's the food and the provider of food that they are devoted to. As the day nears supper time, my two four-legged shadows get under my feet, follow me to the loo (they sit outside!), position themselves between me, the potatoes, the peeler and the bin and lie directly in front of my every step.Until I fill their tummies. Then as far as they're concerned I can do anything, go anywhere as long as I don't interfere with their need to sleep.
Second, is their faith. Blind trusting faith. No question. No argument. They believe in you. And knowing that is humbling. It rekindles a little belief in yourself.
Third, is that they effortlessly provide an ice-breaker. People open up and talk. About their dogs, about your dogs, about the pets they had as a child.
Fourth, is that they are therapy - for all the reasons above. Pat a warm head and the worries of the day seep away. Dogs make you feel better about yourself. They calmly sit by someone who is ill. A dog resting its head on the knee of a sick child, takes away the hurt and the pain. That's why they are used in hospitals and care homes. Even when Bertie Baggins helps himself to the newspaper and shreds it, that moment of anger is swiftly displaced by amusement at his expression that says "Oooh no, this wasn't me mum. Honest mum. It shredded itself!" And that amusement equals therapy.
Fifth, is that they are good for your health. Walk a dog, run with it, play Frisbee. Get out and get some fresh air and exercise.
Sixth, is that they make you laugh. Did you know that dogs can climb trees?
Seventh, is the company. I garden with my boys at my feet. I write as they lie on my toes, keeping them warm. I load the washing while they 'help' by pulling socks out of the basket. Together, we watch for the postman, crouching behind a hedge, ready to pounce ... no! No, no, we don't.
But it's an idea ...
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