A Girl's Best Friend

Monday, July 6, 2009

One of the great injustices is that men get to have dogs for their best friends, while us women are stuck with diamonds. I'd choose a lovely little mutt over an overblown piece of coal any day.

The single most dysfunctional relationship I'm involved in is with my dog. I would never, under any circumstances, allow anyone else to treat me the way she does. For instance, just last night, she dragged the blanket halfway off my bed, onto her waiting mat, and bunched it up for some extra padding. She left me with about one third, and I consented to share.

She demands a bite of anything I'm eating, whining and crying when I refuse. She can easily claim 3/5ths of any available room with her mere 50 pound frame. And if she needs more space, she stretches, moans, and pushes her way closer to the middle. She gets fed, bathed, scratched, petted, and rubbed on demand. I saved her life when she was on the chopping block at the pound, after living on the street, having puppies and starving for them. She'd been at the humane society for three months, was 20 pounds underweight, and no one wanted her. And I do all of this for a little cuddling on occasion, for which she almost never sits still.

We're both needy and co-dependent with one another. She likes to be pressed up next to me when I'm trying to read or work, and I like to spoon myself around her when she's trying to sleep. I'm better at keep-away than she is, and she has never agreed to actually bring a ball back during fetch, preferring instead to be chased. I live on the 5th floor of a 5 floor walk-up, so the four walks a day that she requires also mean 4 times up and down all of those stairs. She almost never gives kisses.

And she's so, completely worth it.


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