Man’s Best Friend?

People may ask: are you a cat or dog person? I don’t think I’m either.  

I used to think I wanted a dog. My sister had this gentle, beautiful border collie named Gulliver. Gulliver got his name because they had to travel to Illinois, I think, to get him from the litter. He was the runt of the litter, his fur part light brown, not the typical collie black and white. He had these gorgeous blue eyes that you couldn’t help but fall in love with, a patch of brown fur around one and white the other. He would play ball with you all day. Literally. It was a contest of wills, Gulliver never ceasing to nudge that fuzzy ball a little closer with his big, brown, wet nose. I remember sitting on my parents’ black, leather couch when I was, oh, 13 years old I guess, seeing Anne walk around the side of the house with this brown ball of fur in her arms. Twelve years later, Anne and Jon had to put Gulliver to sleep.

But as I grow a little older now, I’m not sure I want to deal with one of my own. Some couples say that they get a dog first, to prepare for having a child later on. I’m not sure I need to deal with puppies to know how to love my son or daughter.

What’s the advantage, companionship? At times, I get on board with this, but then I lose a little support when I see my so-called best friend licking himself. 

*Note: this post is written as I sit at my principal’s house dog-sitting his two co-dependent canines who confuse the living room carpet for a fire hydrant and bark at their own shadows.