D is for Dog Day Afternoon


I’m all about dogs today and by that I am neither referring to women who fall into the unattractive category nor to general female bitchiness. I am waxing lyrical about dogs of the more traditional canine variety.

My day job, the bill paying one, currently involves dogs. As a result I’m heavily immersed in doggy research ranging from the ubiquitous Google, to the book store to my friends and relations, even involving my two canine housemates, who treat me with the pity reserved for a mental patient.

I have a Staffordshire Terrier and a rescued Bloodhound cross Beagle, so when their attitude is that I must be off my rocker, I tend to take them seriously.

The crux of today’s exploration has to do with the bond between man (and I use the term here in the general sense not to be sexist, but just to use less words and slashes) and dog.

What is it that elusive magic between a man and his dog?

I think some of it has to do with unconditional love. I think as people, we tend to protect ourselves from either giving or receiving unconditional love, because we can’t believe in its truth. Along comes a dog, the very epitome of unconditional love.

There is a wonderful quote I shall have to verify in the morning due to the still nonoperational nature of my home Internet, about what a dog teaches a boy.

Robert Benchley

My first dog was a Golden Cocker Spaniel. I was 5 years old and one evening my father came home from work early. We were going on a drive. In those days this was a source of great excitement usually ending up at my cousins’ house.

I remember driving forever before arriving at a house with a great sweeping driveway and a beautiful tree laden with blossoms that drooped over the car. Inside I was ushered off to play with some gorgeous golden puppies.

I was standing in the garden, cuddling a bundle of fluff when a lady came out and said to me, “What are you going to name your puppy?”

And I said, “I don’t have a puppy, but if I did I would call her Kim.”

She smiled at me and went back inside and I remember thinking she must quite mad.

I must have fallen asleep in middle of the litter of puppies, because I vaguely recollect my father carrying to the car and placing something small and warm into my arms.

In the morning, I thought it was all a dream until wiggling, licking, yipping little creature emerged from under the blankets.

My joy was indescribable. Kim was my best friend, my confidant, my shoulder to cry on, my partner in crime and the first great canine love of my life. My love for her certainly surpassed that of the mild infatuation I had for my first boyfriend. How very Cat Stevens.

The point being, that I’m not alone in this. The love you share with your dog is something incredibly special.

My Cousin found out she had breast cancer because her little terrier kept sniffing and scratching at her breast. He probably saved her life. There are stories of how dogs can help people live longer, heal faster and generally be better people. I have to believe that. You can judge a man by how he treats his dog. And anyone who loves a dog can’t possibly be all bad.

I asked Miss Diva about it and she said, “Everyone should have a dog. Dogs love you and protect you and are always happy to see you.”

She has a point. No matter how bad a day has been, it is hard to hold on to that when a wet nose is stuffed in your crotch and a tail is wagging so ferociously the dog’s entire body seems to be in danger of taking off.

Dog’s don’t care about bad hair days, or PMS, or sloppy old tracksuit bottoms. Dogs are just ecstatic to spend any time at all with you and never begrudge you the time you spend away. That’s love.

Now I want to know about your dog?

What is it about that dog that makes it so special?

If you could tell him why he is such a special friend, what would you say?

Another quote I’ll have to check in the morning says that the road to a man’s heart is paved with paw prints. I liked that one.

Paw prints

Now I have to vacate my office because Billy Bob the redneck Staffie has let off a fart so toxic all living things must quiver and die in the expanding shock wave. It hasn’t hit me yet, but by the speed at which he just exited the room I imagine it is headed my way fast.

PS: Check out this wonderful blog: A Letter to my Dog and add your own.



8 thoughts on “D is for Dog Day Afternoon

  1. I grew up being a cat person. It wasn’t until after I got married that my hubby and I decided we should get a dog as “our first baby”. Poppet, our golden lab/basset hound mix dog (basically a shorter golden lab with floppy basset ears), has been a handful from the start. But she is fiercely loyal and protective of my hubby and me, and our son, even though I know she’s still a little jealous of him and enjoys when he is asleep so that she can have us to herself.

  2. My dog quite literally keeps me alive. It is a big job for a little dog some times. He reminds me he needs to eat sometimes reminding me of same, he loves me, protects me and when things get bad never leaves my side. He is currently crouched hopefully beside me having rung his bell on and off to pee for a few hours (my stand in for executive function) and is reaching the won’t be ignored state so he won’t be which will get him out and me to bed. He even has his own blog although he is even less likely to write than I am. (His burning passion was the great cat food conspiracy and since we have been catless for over a year he is demotivated)

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