A Tale of Being Tail-Less
When I brought "Piper" into our home, it was not without resistance from my dog-protesting husband. Truthfully, it was with a gargantuan amount of resistance. Simply put, Tom did not want a dog. We had cats. We had guinea pigs. We had children, for goodness sakes. We did not need a dog.
Why not?, I asked him over and over. And over and over, I received the same type of responses. Dogs bark a lot, dogs stink, dogs chew up things, dogs poop on the floor, dogs have to be walked, dogs can't be left alone for extended periods of time. On and on, went his reasons for not wanting a dog.
All of which I understood and I completely respected his views. Still, none of his reasonings detracted from the fact that I firmly wanted a dog. In fact, I felt that our family needed a dog, though how to explain the need of an extra set of paws was not something I could quite verbalize. Simply saying, "we need a dog because we need a dog" didn't
exactly fly. And don't even start with me about how that argument invokes "Circulus in Probando", the fallacy in which the conclusion of an argument is stated in the premise. Everyone knows that. The fact remained that it was my immovable position that we needed a dog. And I'm not one to just roll over on a subject (bad pun intended). In fact, one might call me a bit stubborn. One might even go as far as to say that I am relentless when I make up my mind that something is truly necessary, and any attempts to deter destiny are simply futile. One can say whatever one wants to say, but the result was, by the end of it all, my husband was so sick of hearing me argue the many, varied, and wondrous traits of doggies that it came a point where he was ready and willing to drive to another state to get a dog, if I would just shut up about it. Literally. As in, I had found a dog that lived in Georgia.
All this to say, we got a dog. A little eight pound Maltese/Yorkie blend of adorability. A dog that, that as it turned out, can bark a lot, sometimes smells, often chews up things, occasionally poops on the floor, has to be walked, and can't be left alone for any time at all. No doubt, myhusband was absolutely correct about all the malfeasances of doggie-hood. In fact, in many ways, having a dog is like being saddled with an eternal toddler. Yes, Tom was right. Dogs are a whole lot of trouble. And yet my husband, via our little eight pound Piper, has also learned other truths about dogs.
Dogs are wonderful! They have the most joyful disposition that rubs off on everyone. They are intelligent, love to play, and are extraordinarily affectionate. They greet you every morning and afternoon with the happiest face of excitement, revelling in the fact that you, her human, is alive. A dog will love you with every ounce of her little furry soul, and this unconditional adoration reaffirms yourself that you might actually be the person you'd like to be. It is as though dogs are God's way of showing you that even though you may be imperfect, you are still worthy of love.
Last night, as Piper was snuggled up under my husband's arm in our bed, staring her big black eyes adoringly up at Tom, he finally turned to me and conceded. "Ok, you were right. I absolutely love her. And yes. We needed a dog. "
More rapturously vindicating words had never been spoken. And I didn't even feel the need to rub in the fact that I, of course, had told him so.