Ode to My Dog

I love my dog. I love his sweet eyes and the way he sticks his tongue out just a little when he is asleep.  I love when he sleeps and his feet move swiftly and urgently chasing something unseen while his dreaming body remains unmoved.   I love my dog because he loves me. 

He is never angry with me and is always in a good mood in the morning.  He doesn’t care if I'm having a bad hair day or if I screwed up at work.  He only cares if his dinner is late, and even then, forgiveness is quick and without condition. I love my dog because he makes me smile.

He brings me his “babies” every time I enter the home and tosses them at my feet so that I will be impressed by his parenting skills I’m sure.  Whenever my dog is washed, he runs his wet body over every stationary surface or unsuspecting human to expedite the trying process.  He seeks out those who have freshly washed hair and begs to catch a whiff.  My dog demands attention and will slap your feet to get you to stroke his glossy black fur that has begun to speckle with the white hair of age.  I love my dog because he is stupid.

My dog barks at everyone who walks by “his” house in some sort of guard dog display, but if you say his name he wags his tail like a fool and guides you in the house.  For he is all show.  My dog eats vegetables, cat food, and dead things.  He once kept a dead squirrel hidden under a bush for months so that he could occasionally visit it.  He didn’t kill it but had found it.  Maybe he wanted a friend?  I love my dog because he is a good soul.

Animals have souls and personalities just like people do.  He fits perfectly in to my family.  He misses us when we’re gone.  He stops eating and wagging his tail like someone who has lost their partner.  He goes out of his way to seek out our companionship.  It is enough for him to sit with us on our couch and just be in our presence.  I love my dog because just being, is enough for him.

Most of all, I love my dog because he made our family different.  Before him we had pets, but after him, we weren’t dog people, we were Tuner people.  We were the kind of people who call out to their dog in made up terms of endearment – skudge-budger, pickle pants, skittle face, ‘the baby’.  We were the kind of people who planned vacations around our dog and the kind of people who thought everyone else was crazy for thinking we were obsessed.  From the moment we rescued him and he leapt up into my dad’s lap, all 80lbs of him, I fell in love.  And because of this I am forever grateful to my dog.

My dog made my father happy.  My dog is my dad’s best friend.  My dog reminds me of the best times and brings me comfort in the worst times. I love my dog because he loves us without words and expects nothing in return.  So even at 12 years old, 84 in dog years, he continues to be the random thought in my head that brings me to ask my friends and family… “What do you think Tuna is doing right now?”

My dog is makes me smile and I love him for that.