A Dog's Life

Add caption

An old friend posted this link, and although this might describe her dog, it certainly doesn't describe mine. My dog is self-centered, stupid and thoughtless. He looks into the distance and sniffs the air for cat poop, or better yet, rabbit poop. Today, he found the wild bird seed in our yard and chomped on that awhile. He looks into the distance and sees nothing but a blur, because his 13 year-old eyes are cloudy and dim. To him, the world is an endless sea of grass and food. He really just wants to sit on the couch and bark at people who come to the door. If he had any teeth he'd bite them. He hates the food I give him and he  buries it under the little mat under his dish.
Conversely, people are just furless, naked dogs. They look into the distance and see endless joy: A Ferrari, a personal island, or a villa in Italy. But they never attain these pleasures because they're too thoughtful, intuitive and kind. They'll blow it all on dog food and college for the kids and the stupidest of all investments, insurance. They'll let their sense of responsibility dictate their actions, buying not Ferraris but termite treatments; not a personal island, but a water softener; not reaching the villa in Italy, but settling for the Condo in Cleveland. They have to. They're humans. They've been taught to be responsible, pay their way, do the right thing, pay the taxes, go to work. If they were dogs they'd be content. Rabbit poop isn't so bad. Who knows? Maybe it's good.
So please, don't let dogs be persons covered in fur. Let them be reckless, adventuresome vagabonds who carry no responsibility but procreation, no goal but another meal, and no purpose above delighting in the run and the fetch and the grawing of a bone on your good carpet.
Don't let my dog be like me, a person. Let me into his canine world of running and eating and barking and chewing. He must know something I don't know. He doesn't pay for insurance.