I have a huge yellow lab. Or rather I have a dog that looks like a huge lab. In actuality he is a cross between a golden retriever and a white shepherd. He’s big and he’s a baby. He can’t understand why he doesn’t fit on my lap. This is his picture:
Or go here for more dog photos.
I was away this weekend. I went to the cape with my friend leaving all children and dogs at home. I probably could have taken a dog or two, if I’d thought about it, but the kids would have put a serious damper on the whole self-indulgent thing I had going on. When I came home my children were mildly interested in where I’d been, but my dogs, especially Moose, acted like I’d been gone forever. He literally wouldn’t eat his dinner because he didn’t want me out of his sight.
I swear this dog would merge with me if it was possible. He’s sweet and pleasing but not too bright. Surprisingly, he’s easy to train. Not because he’s smart but because he wants to please me. There are dogs who are indifferent to being in trouble, but not this dog. I feel bad for him, really. He is dependent on approval in a way neither of my other dogs seems to be. They love me, but they don’t put themselves in time out when they think they’ve done wrong. In fact, Zoe is so indifferent to my wrath that she ignores me until I pick her up and take her away from whatever she’s gotten into.
Dogs are funny creatures. They’ve developed complex relationships with us and with each other. The thing I find comforting about dogs is the total devotion they give. They don’t criticize, belittle or berate. The do occaisionally whine, they might chew up your favorite pair of socks but they won’t tell you you’re stupic or lazy. And they’re never stingy with affection