Wednesday, July 4, 2012

This doesn't mean I'm a dog person... yet

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle, life is a maze, and love is a riddle...

He told me that dogs could cure loneliness.  Okay, not exactly.  He told me a dog is the best thing when you're lonely.  I didn't believe him.  I don't like dogs.  I've never liked dogs.

Okay, not exactly.

I don't know where to go, can't do it alone,  I've tried, and I don't know why...

My mom tells me I wanted a dog once.  Long ago, it would have been third or fourth or first grade or something.  Probably the latter, because by third grade I was set on guinea pigs, and by fourth grade I'd found the perfect pair.

Of course we weren't going to get a dog.  What first grader would actually take care of a dog, take it for walks, scoop its poop, no matter how much she pleads and promises?  And I doubt our cat would have been happy about it.  But I ended up with the best of both worlds - neighbors who had a golden retriever and a basset hound, kept in by electric fence, who told me I could go play with the dogs whenever I wanted.  Dogs to play with but not clean up after?  I loved those dogs.  When the family asked me if I could take care of them for a week, I was in heaven.

Slow it down, make it stop, or else my heart is gonna pop.

These days, every dog I meet loves me - far more than I love them.  I'm small, and most of the dogs I meet are big and want to lick my face.  I probably smell of cat most of the time, perhaps that's it.  Even supposedly well trained dogs, I'm always afraid they're going to push me over - something almost your weight flying at you, it's not too hard to imagine.  The only dogs that didn't jump at me every time they saw me were my grandma's dogs.  Oh, well, they did, actually, but only because I always gave them treats - and they were little tiny dogs, couldn't reach my waist if they jumped.  And they pooped all over the place.  Now that they're back in the shelter, though, it seems that's only because they weren't let out enough.  That story is for another day, though.

Cause it's too much, yeah it's a lot, to be something I'm not...

I told him I don't like dogs.  He told me that I just haven't found the right one yet.  I guess believed him.  Dogs are different, I know.  I mean, cats are different, and there's not nearly as much variation in cats as there is in dogs.  Temperament wise, maybe.  But size, coloring, hair, breed, whatever else - dogs take the cake on that one.

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment, I'm so scared, but I don't show it...

He told me dogs cure loneliness.  I didn't believe him.  He told me I just needed to find the right dog.  He was right.

It took a tired cocker spaniel and a good movie.  Animals are like kids - it's always a compliment when they like you, because they have no reason to hide anything (and they usually have a better intuition about who they can trust than adults do).  So I don't totally mind when hundred-pound labs jump in my face, I just don't enjoy it.  However, when this little cocker climbed in my lap to take a nap, I just forgot everything.

I can't figure it out, it's bringing me down, I know, I've got to let it go... and just enjoy the show.

I forgot about the friends who may or may not still be friends.  I forgot about the little gestures I usually overthink, overexamine, overworry.  I forgot about not having a decently-paying job.  I forgot about the thesis I'm supposed to be researching, the internship I'm supposed to be working on.  With this gorgeous creature picking me out of everyone in the room, me over the actual dog lovers, looking me in the eye and then falling asleep across my stomach... I even forgot the pain of losing my grandma.  I just relaxed and enjoyed the show.

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