It's a Perfect Day

A friend and I were chatting via text recently and I remarked that she was somewhat “rough” on humans and a complete pushover for doggies – also, I’m somewhat guilty of that as I’ve bent over backward at times for my best pal and can be a little on the “brusque” side when considering humans. She explained her rationale that, unlike a human being, a dog will never “ghost” his or her owner. They’ll never disappear on you – not until they’re called upon by nature to do so. If anything, you can’t get rid of them even for a few minutes when you need a little time for yourself. No matter, if you leave and come back for a brief time, they don’t care – they are happy you’re back and the moment is good. To use a Lou Reed lyric, it’s a perfect day. (And no, Lou Reed’s song “Perfect Day” is not a love song to heroin – it’s a love song about a girl. His own words in an interview given before his death said as much. Look it up.) Your dog is a little like a human in that he or she will use you to get what he or she needs or wants from you at that moment. Unlike a human, your dog is pretty fucking transparent about the whole affair. They wear their emotions on their furry sleeves for the entire world to see. If a dog loves you, you’ll know it. If a dog hates you, you’ll know it. If a dog is indifferent to you, you’ll know that too. You’ll always know where you stand. If your dog loves you, the blind loyalty given you is a rarity in this world. Even when you are clearly guilty, your dog will believe in your innocence and will gladly tell the world to go fuck itself in your defense. I think that is what endears them to people so much. I recognize it in my own dog. When he works his ass off trailing a running bird and then points the pheasant and I move in to flush the bird and then completely blow a slam dunk, going away shot in an open field at 25 yards, I lower my head and recognize that I should really do more practice on the sporting clays range. I apologize to him and he shrugs as if to say, “No worries, Pal. I’ll find another and that piece of shit gun of yours will fire correctly and then we’ll have us a dead pheasant. It’s all good”. It’s my own fault, I know it but he finds excuses for me.