His coat is short, black and white and smooth to the touch. He stands tall and walks proudly. His eyes are kind and gentle like he’s lived a thousand lives. He wears a smile most of the time and wants my attention all of the time. When he talks, I am spellbound to listen, for I know it must be important. He drives me crazy with his pent up energy and melts my heart with his cuddles. He doesn’t belong to me, but I seem to belong to him. He is my dog. Rocky.
I am afraid I’m turning in to one of the people I used to be annoyed with. I’m talking about dog people. You know, the kind that referred to themselves as pet parents instead of owners?
The kind that talks about their ‘fur baby’ and brings home a toy or two almost every time they go shopping.
Dog people can’t go anywhere or do anything without first making provisions for their pet. Because we all know that cat people don’t have to worry about the cats.
They are the kind that when their dog (who has been outside sniffing the ground and licking things too nasty to mention) gets right up in your face and they allow him to ‘kiss’ them.
Dog people have dog hair on their carpet, couch, clothes, and blanket. They don’t even notice, or they’re too tired from trying to keep it clean (which is practically impossible).
They’re the kind that takes pictures of their dog more than they do of themselves and of course, post it for everyone to see.
Dog people tell others, “Oh, don’t mind him jumping, he’s just a puppy!”
I may have done one or two of these things already and I’m just six months in. I might be doomed.
However, I’ve discovered ‘dog people’ are very loved. At least, by their dog. Rocky always greets me with jumps of joy, tongue, and tail wagging in the air. If he’s asleep, he wakes up and meets me. I have to admit, it’s nice to be loved.
Rocky loves me when I have makeup on and when I don’t. He doesn’t care that I have bedhead and my toenail polish is worn off, he’s just happy for me to take him outside. He doesn’t judge me when I wear my pajamas all day and never tells me to turn the channel on the TV.
Rocky never complains when or what I feed him. He’s grateful and will even do things he doesn’t want to get a small treat, like drop the prized bird feather he just found out of his mouth.
Rocky makes me laugh with the way he cocks his head or when he zooms around the living room like a dog on speed, then suddenly stops, curls up and goes to sleep.
So maybe, instead of concentrating on some annoying traits of dog owners, I should look at the advantages instead. Maybe ‘those’ dog people aren’t so bad after all. I just had to get to know them. In a very real way.