Dogs and Men

I found an article today, that got me thinking about who I am. Especially since I am more or less, now, a former dog owner. Its complicated. My dog is essentially living full time with a friend of the family, after having her dog get hit by a school bus. Her and my dog were best friends,and moreover she was really good friends with her dog so I basically just sort of ignored the fact that after the incident, my dog kind of took the place of her old dog. He's happy. I'm happy. Kind of.

But back to the study. The researchers showed that people tend to keep dogs that are similiar to their own personality. As of late - I've been exploring/revelling/terrifying myself right excellent my own vulnerability - and flaws, fighting, among other things - a tendency towards the passive aggressive. Did you know that if you're passive aggressive to people, they can develop a tendency not to trust you? I didn't know that.

Whether or not my dog, reflects me - I can honestly say I put feeling into the decision. I had actually picked up a dog from down the road, moments before I actually found my dog. I was driving along - but feeling , minute by minute - a growing sense of unease.

What happened next might be of interest to my mormon friends - some of whom, I am sure, will tell me it was the holy spirit that next guided me. To set the preface, I was on a long trip, and had to return home (dog in truckbed) down a freeway. The freeway was left. And there was absolutely nothing but country to the right. But instead of turning left, to the interstate - I turned right. I can't explain why - I just did. I am a naturally frisky person, perhaps it was just that I was happy I'd found a dog - and I wanted to explore a bit. Perhaps, it was the holy spirit.

I looked back in the truckbed again, and reflected upon the fact that the yellow dog I had just chosen, had, when we first met, performed submissive urination. Despite this, it looked just lovable and friendly and endearing. So I had gone through the adoption process and now had a fairly young yellow dog in tow. I still couldn't shake a growing sense of unease. Almost minute by minute. It wasn't really deep or painful unease, but if you knew me - you'd know what I am like when something like this happens - I tend to become very sensitive. I started looking around - to the left, and right of the road. Noticing everything. Then, for some reason - far down and on the right - towards the river, by side of the road - I saw a sign. I actually drove past it and then turned around to see it again. It said "retriever mix puppies free to good home". I pulled over, dog still in truckbed, and jumped out. I could see the puppies playing there in their pen just up on a hill. Three black four gold.

No one was home, but the sign was clear. Anyone could take one. I knocked on the door. It had a stained glass element in the window that said "God Never Closes a Door But Opens a Window".

I made a decision, since the dog I had just picked out - had come from the humane shelter, and the shelter was closing in a matter of seconds. I had no time. I was on a business trip, in a company truck - and I literally could not bring the dog back . Ever. I decided then and there that I must return the dog that was making me nervous. Maybe it was the dog's body language, I am not entirely sure what it was - but it seemed as if it was gloating over something. As if I had been had. I kept looking back into the truckbed. I had reached the point where I honestly felt like the dog had actually conned me. I am not sure if this is possible. But there it is.

I turned around and sped down the road back to where I'd came. The people were actually pulling out of the driveway. Luckily, they let me back in , and allowed me to return the dog. As I gave them back the dog, it flashed a side of its personality that I truly did not like. I learned later, that this dog was a digger - and loved to tear up fences. It was also mean to me. I was doing one thing, that it disagreed with - and suddenly it was an entirely different and decidedly nonsubmissive creature. It would not have been a good fit.

I went back down the road, and turned over to the farmhouse - almost a log cabin style place - and got out a cheesburger I'd kept in the car with me. I opened their cage - which was clean, and neat -with cedar shavings on the floor, and let them all out. The first one to get to the burger - a little black one, with a star - the one I chose.

He was half border collie. Half labrador retriever.

Yesterday, I found a little half border collie, half retriever named Keiko... her family was apparently in the process of divorce. My immediate feelings toward the dog, I think, were an obvious tell. I'm pretty sure dogs can read our poker face. I wasn't putting on a very good one.

Someone once told me that you should never get a border collie unless you want to jog eight miles a day, or you have a herd of sheep to tend to. I could not disagree more. A dog, is by its very nature - a type of pet that demands more play than any other type of pet.

My goal of course, wasn't to tell you everything about myself - but rather to wonder aloud if the person who told me to go to hell last week, was on to something. Life with that first dog, would have been a kind of hell. I don't get told to go to hell very often. But whenever I do, I usually play it like Michael Jordan would play a loss. He's out on the courts the next day working things out. Note that this approach will work for you, if you take the responsibility to play your own game. You can't do this on a team basis.

It's probably good to know, that most guys who are real jerks - choose dogs that are aggressive. I'm not sure what category throwing the tennis ball, over and over again - will fall into, however. Maybe if I dive deep down into that, I'll find out where I went wrong. The nice thing about women is , usually they can give you a problem that you'll be able to solve. As long as you apply a certain form of dedication* and respect.

* Most commonly, "doglike"