Entry #652589, added on 06-01-09 @ 10:56 am EDT
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| My Dog, Max--Again | Entry #652589 |
Title: My Dog, Max—Again
Date: June 1, 2009, Monday
Thought: I suppose that’s just his way of reminding me that I belong to him.
Jog: He’s not too far away. I can’t see him right now, but I know he’s there. He’s always there. Of course I’m talking about my dog, Max. Some of you who are particularly spiritual would have thought I was talking about God, who of course is always there. But, at the moment, I’m not being especially spiritual—just a bit contemplative about my dog.
To some folks it would seem to be a nuisance, always having a dog under your feet, or at times laying on your feet under the desk, preventing you from rolling in and out to do your work. But to me it is tremendously endearing and comforting. To have another living being be so dedicated and totally trusting to you is a gift that many take for granted.
We have new neighbors next door. The young couple have an adorable little boy named Noah and a yellow Lab pup named Sugar. Since they have hardwood floors they have decided that Sugar must live outside. Her nails would scratch the floor and diminish the visual impact of the floors as well as hurt the value of the house. I respect that decision, but I am very disappointed in the affect it will have on Sugar. Although it is a very nice back yard, it is a lonely place. Sugar spends her time there alone, with the family moving about in the house. She often cries and barks to get their attention, but is rewarded only with a stern, “Sugar! Hush up!”
When that happens, I usually give Max an additional stroke, to which he usually adjusts his head to gain full advantage of my touch. Our home has witnessed the impact of having an animal living in the house. Although he does not chew, scratch, climb on the furniture, or mark the floors and furniture, our floors and carpets are forever littered with black hair, which even with all our effort seems to be impossible to remove. We do a very good job, but there is always a stray hair that seems to attach itself to the clothing of any visitor, leaving our clothes untouched. It is a battle we are destined to lose, but motivated to fight daily.
From what I understand, Labs are very people oriented. In fact, they get attached to THEIR people, and are happiest when they are with their people. We confirm that piece of information after witnessing Max’s actions. He is tremendously attached to us; we call him our Velcro dog. If we were to assign him to the back yard, he would pine away from loneliness. When I say Max has to be with me, I mean within five feet of me. If I enter a room and close the door behind me, he will lay up against that door and wait for my return. He does not whine or bark; he just lays his head on his paws and patiently waits. His patience amazes me.
How can someone not become attached to a dog like that? It is certainly beyond my ability to withstand. As a result, I have become a pitiful dog lover, who gushes about his dog with the slightest encouragement, boring friend and stranger with equal fervor. I’ve always determined I would not do that, but find myself helpless to prevent it. Especially when those brown eyes look up at me when he lays his head across my foot, or when he gives me a solitary lick on the elbow as I work at the computer. I suppose that’s just his way of reminding me that I belong to him.
I bring this piece to a conclusion, having once again spent time dedicated to my dog, Max. Many of you who are familiar with the relationship that black dog of mine and I have, will recognize the redundant feelings here. Those of you who are new to my blog will likely take this discourse as an obvious ramblings of a dog-lover, and perhaps consider it boring. It doesn’t really matter, because I write it not for you as much as for me, who selfishly is seeking an outlet for the emotions that I have for a black dog. Never having experienced this type of relationship with a canine, it is new to me also. Even as I write this, Max is nuzzling my foot, trying to find the right position to continue his nap. I am touched that he has chosen my foot, under my desk, in my way to close his eyes and rest. I must be careful not to disturb him.
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