Let Them Be Dogs


As we were winding our way through the third dimension of hell (otherwise known as Wal-Mart) we encountered a woman who had a fat, trembling, black chihuahua perched in the seat of the cart. “What’s that dog doing in the cart?” asked Stevie. My imaginary allergies started acting up as they always do when there are very obviously non-service dogs in public places and I sneezed out that maybe she was a seizure sniffing dog or something since only dogs with jobs are allowed in stores. Then I glared at the woman. Accessory dogs are one of my biggest pet peeves. You’re not allowed to smoke in public but by all means bring your furry friends in and let them shed their dander all over the produce section.

I’m a dog lover, keyword there is DOG. I love the way they show affection, their expressive faces, kind and loyal spirits, their playfulness. We had our three dogs before we had the kids and though our home is a madhouse at times I would never get rid of them because I made a commitment to them. I love them for what they are and allow them to be dogs. My chihuahua would absolutely loathe going inside of Wal-Mart. The bright lights, the people, the smells, the sounds, would be sensory overload to her poor little nervous system. I love, love, love, my wittle furry wurry Daisy Waisy Woo as much as the next dog owner so I wouldn’t subject her to something so very against her nature. I’ve never heard of a dog that liked being in a purse. It’s selfish and it’s mean.

My other beef with dog lovers these days is this whole “mother” thing. Yesterday was Mother’s Day and I saw countless Facebook posts from people and businesses alike including dog parents in their greetings. Now, I have given and received the “Happy ______ from the Dog” card. I have crawled out of bed to clean up explosive messes on the carpet in the wee hours of the morning. I have spent hours and cash at the vet to figure out what was wrong with my dizzy Boston Terrier. I know my Boxer can’t eat anything made of white flour. But I’m not their mother. When it’s all said and done, I can close the diarrhea dog in the kitchen where the mess is easier to clean up. I can put her outside to do her business. I don’t have to teach her the ins and outs of the world. If I have a doctor’s appointment I can leave the dog home alone. This ridiculous need to include everyone in everything is pretty offensive to real mothers. I know anything I’ve ever done for these dogs pales in comparison to what I do for these kids day in and day out and what’s more I knew that before I had them. We’re grown ups people, do we all really still need the participation ribbon?

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One Response to Let Them Be Dogs

  1. *Applause* I now feel less alone in my plight to convince some people that although I love my dog to pieces, she is a dog, and as such does not sleep in my bed, wear clothes, eat out of my plate or go into shops. She does sleep in a basket and she does wonder what on earth has got into these people when they try to kiss the end of her nose. I ask them if they know what a golden retriever does with her nose, it usually works…..

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