In Praise of Pets

We got our dog, Pauley, by accident. For some reason, P.C. thought I really wanted a dog and I thought he really wanted a dog...so we got a dog. We didn't realize this until about a year after we'd gotten Pauley.

Owning Pauley can be a real hassle sometimes. Even though she is paper trained, we don't feel comfortable leaving her for more than a workday by herself, since she in only allowed in one bedroom while we're away. Since we live far from our jobs, this means that we have to make sure one of us gets home at a reasonable time, which is sometimes hard to manage.

And she can really be a brat, too. The list of Pauley's wrongdoings could fill a lot of space. Chewed kitchen cabinets ... chewed sandals ... broken sunglasses ... the pile where we throw socks to sort after she runs around the house with them in her mouth ... her crazy desire to eat other dogs' and cats' poop when we take a walk outside. Throw in the vet bills, and that's that.

But as I sit here, typing away while Pauley is curled up on my lap, I know that it is all worth it. The love of a dog is so unconditional. Pauley doesn't care how much I weigh, whether or not I take a shower that day, or what kind of mood I'm in. She just wants to love me.

My first dog, a black lab named Veedal, was one of the best pets ever. She would lie still while my six-year-old self would lift up her upper lip to look at her teeth. One time, I made a pile of Golden Books (about six inches high) in an attempt to keep her in my room for the night, and she wouldn't step over it and leave until my mom moved the piles.

When I lived in Virginia, I lived in a wonderful carriage house in the backyard of a beautiful old home. The owners of the house had a dog, Annie, and a cat, Godfrey. Godfrey and I had a special connection. He would come into the carriage house many nights to visit. If he was there overnight and he had to go to the bathroom (I didn't have a litter box for him), he would gently tap me on the nose to wake me. He never had an accident in my house--even after I accidentally locked him in the house when I went to work. One night, I was feeling particularly sad, listening to Joni Mitchell and feeling sorry for myself. Godfrey climbed up into my arms and onto my chest. I picked him up and started to dance with him to the music. I will never forget that--being comforted by a sweet kitty while "A Case of You" played in the CD player.

There is no better feeling in the world than the feeling of being loved by a pet. Thank goodness for misunderstandings between husbands and wives--at least this time.