"BFF dogs" Refers to my Four-Legged Friends
It's been a month of interspecies losses for me, but it will get better. With that in mind, I thought I would explain why I'm a dog person. Let me rephrase that. Dog person meaning a person who finds dogs attractive, as opposed to a person who others call a dog. "BFF dogs" are the ones who never let me down. By virtue of who they are they couldn't make me unhappy if they tried. "BFF dogs" are the ones who seem like old souls. Sages who live to give me advice, albeit without words. What can be cuter than a walking, noise-making stuffed animal come to life? Stubby-tailed or bobbed, long-bodied or short and, wire-haired or smooth-coated, I love them all. Certainly, I haven't met every breed of dog, but I'm about the rescue anyway. There are a few dog breeds that I'm nervous to be around, but I will keep that information to myself. Years ago Newsweek magazine did an article on the smartest dog breeds by size. One year I believe they put afghan hounds at dead last and heard a lot of gruff from afghan owners. Some of the personality traits that certain dogs possess were purposely created to get a job done. For instance, there is a dog that used to run in front of horse-drawn fire engines to let town people know that they could get killed if they aren’t paying attention as they cross the street So...it's not always their fault. Besides chronic humping or drooling there isn't anything, my "BFF dogs" can do that would upset me.
My therapist is always asking me how my body feels when we discuss certain subjects. It's one of my least favorite questions because there are times when even though I'm present I'm mentally checked out. So asking how my body is feeling when it's down the road ordering Zucchini sticks from the Greek restaurant isn't going to give her the answer she wants. Nevertheless, I recognized in the last year when I'm viewing photos or videos of dogs, I'm always smiling. It could be my "BFF dogs," YouTube, or TikTok videos, my facial expression, which is usually a kind of confused or mad, is stuck in a toothy grin similar to a dog knowing it will soon be receiving a cookie.
I never feel like I can be nice enough to my "BFF dogs." They are honest creatures and give me such joy, I often leave them and immediately think of what I could have done better. Maybe I could have spent more time with them, given them additional snackeronies, or just scritched them more. The plain truth is what we give them is usually more than enough where they are concerned. What they give us in return is unmeasurable.
There are times when I’m working that I actually forget that these dogs aren’t speaking with me. I don’t mean that in an anthropomorphic way, I’m aware my BFF dogs aren’t humanly communicating with me. Instead, what I mean is that it seems as if a conversation is going back and forth simply based on my knowing exactly what they want. I have been friends with people for a lifetime who can’t remember that I don't eat meat and I don’t drink hot beverages. Neither of those things should define a relationship, but my dogs know me well enough to understand me. When I say, “can you move your footie?” they know they have for the millionth time gotten their leash stuck under themselves and need me to fix it. They know when I ask, “who is sitting nicely?” means if they sit down and don’t bark or bother the dog adjacent to them, they will get a snack.
I have learned some mad skills in my years working with dogs. These abilities are also occupational hazards but nonetheless, I can do shit about shit. I have learned to cure all cases of pseudocoprostasis more commonly referred to as a dingleberry aka poop stuck to a dog's bum. I can remove it so quickly the dog doesn’t know what's happening. More importantly, he or she will not be shamed as a result of my ability. I can relieve a dog from a hefty “flanger” or rope of drool with a quick wrist flip. One needs to be careful when doing this because once I went to do the fling part of the flanger and almost flung it directly into a person running. Shit happens. I’m also keenly aware when a dog is about to make me late for a lunch date by body-slamming itself into a pile of poop that another dog has left. I know in a second if a dog is making a funny face because it has a piece of cookie stuck between its gums and the inside of its lip.
If I didn’t have dogs of the four-legged variety, my life would be profoundly different. No one peeing in excitement because they are so happy to see me. No one fighting with another dog over who gets to greet me first. No one staring up at me for approval and no one who loves me unconditionally. My neighborhood is filled with dogs that I can count on to make me smile. Whether I go up or down the block I will see a dog who acts as if he couldn't be any happier than the moment he lays eyes on me. Because I'm single I don't get my self-esteem raised on account of men often. Historically, men haven't treated me that wonderfully. However, I have never met a dog who treated me in a way where I felt disrespected. Granted, wiping their butts on me or spraying their anal glands at me didn't make me happy, but they were accidents.
PLEASE if you enjoyed this post, you liked the pictures or I reminded you of someone else whose company you enjoy, hit like, and or comment. Without that, it's as if neither of us exists.