I think I finally understand why it is that people have dogs. I will admit that before this revelation, I was unclear as to why someone would deal with the expense and work that comes along with a dog.
Now, don’t accuse me of being anti-pet. Okay, so I’m not a pet-person, but I have the same questions about children.
Anyway, I think I get it now.
BB, a friend of mine, was kind enough to throw a little part-time work my way during my unemployment. In addition to the promise of a little income (as opposed to the out-come I’ve been dealing with), this part-time gig allowed me to work in an office space where I could wear… wait for it… jeans and sneakers. (YES! Bring on the Chuck Taylors!) Anyway, BB has a dog named Bailey whom she periodically brings to the office. I’ve met Bailey before, and he is a super sweet dog. But I’ve never spent the time with him – or any dog, really – that I was able to spend with him at BB’s office.
Bailey is a super zen dog who really doesn’t get worked up about much. He likes to walk around, lay in the sun, and, when he’s ready for it, goes prowling for a little attention. So far, this sounds very much like a man, right? But here’s the key difference: Bailey is genuinely excited to see you when you approach him. Seriously, it’s the most amazing thing. He perks up, walks up to you, sniffs, may lick your hand, and then waits for you to give him a head rub. (No gross thoughts here, folks!) It’s so sweet.
Now let’s compare Bailey to HC. When I was in LA for five days, HC and I spoke maybe each day via email.
(Sidebar: HC and I are not really phone people. Especially with each other. When I was in Omaha, I spoke to HC maybe twice a week or so. Weird, I know. But true. I’m not sure how we made it this long either.)
The night I got home from LA, you’d think that HC would be dutifully waiting at home to see me, right? Wrong.
This is (essentially) the email exchange HC and I had that night:
HC: Hey. What time do you get home again? JM is picking me up and we’re going to two parties tonight. You’re welcome to join, but they’re not Metro accessible so you’ll have to find your own way.
Me: Whose party?
HC: [Boring, boring, boring, and more boring. Seriously, his description of the parties was basically this: We’re going to the dentist and we’re really excited about it.]
Me: Thanks, but pass. Have fun!
Sidebar: For those of you who have not figured this one out, “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Have fun!” can be interpreted as Casey-speak for, “I’d rather stick a pencil in my eye, but thanks for thinking of me.”)
So I got home that night to an empty apartment. No fanfare, to say the least. There was absolutely no one waiting here to say hello, tail wagging.
Whatever. Perhaps it’s time to look into a puppy.