I know I sound neurotic when I talk about how much I love my dogs and how dogcentric our home is. But I’m okay with that. It’s the kind of neurosis I’m proud of. I love being greeted by hysterics whenever I enter the house. The barks, howls and yelps, licks, jumps and wags make me very happy. It’s nice to know that my presence means so much to at least two fellow creatures.
As the daughter of two therapists, I can imagine all the personality deficiencies that that statement conjures. Insecurity, low self-esteem, neediness, clinginess, whatever. Knock yourselves out! I don’t care because I think YOU should be jealous of the enormous pleasure I get just walking through my door.
I don’t just allow my dogs on the furniture, I WANT them on it. In fact, if I’m watching TV and I’m not cuddling a dog, I go find one and lure her onto the sofa with me. I have much more patience with mediocre shows when I’m petting a dog.
In bed, there’s nothing like falling asleep with your arm around a dog and your nose nestled into her fur. You think I have commitment issues with my husband? Not a chance. He’s cuddling her from the other side and we can hold hands over the dog’s back.
Feeding them from the table – diagnosis: total lack of discipline or impulse control on my part.
Lazy about doing dishes? I let the dogs “pre-wash” the dinner dishes after I’d scraped most of the leftovers into the garbage. They do an excellent job. Dishes can go right into the dishwasher without the inconvenient rinse and rub I would otherwise have to do.
Maybe there’s a psychological diagnostic code for people who get a huge increase in endorphins from being around their dogs. Bring it on! I hope to die with a dog in my arms. If there’s such a thing as reincarnation, I’ll die happy knowing that I can come back as a dog with an owner as dog crazy as I am.