Thursday, July 14, 2011

The cats would never forgive me but still...

I want a dog.

I can't tell you how intense this desire has become ever since it was becoming painfully aware my marriage was ending against my will.

I'm not sure why I want one so badly.  My cats have been amazing.  They rarely leave my side and have been loving and affectionate.  (Tabster sleeps on the pillow next to me with his head on my shoulder.)  They know I'm sad and do their best to help out.  I love my cats.  They are a major part of my heart.  

I can't say I've been mostly a cat or a dog person.  I love both animals for all of their traits.

And, lately, I've really wanted a dog.  

I've been thinking today, why that is.  I feel like there is a different kind of companionship with a dog than a cat.  A friend pointed out that if you want to look like a super hero in the eyes of another sentient being, get a dog.  (She's mainly a cat person.)  Now, my cats don't look at me like a super hero, but they do seem to care beyond the fact I feed them.  They like affection in the extreme and actually do greet me at the door.  But, it's different with a dog.  There are no words to truly describe the amount of happiness that which a dog exudes when it runs up to meet you.  Cats express it in their tails and how they rub against you and purr, subtle yet pleasant.  Dogs express happiness with every ounce of their beings from the lolling tongue to the bouncing to the tail wagging so hard it causes a full on butt wiggle.  It is possible that I want that kind of affection because of how unwanted I feel right now.  Nothing makes you feel wanted more than a dog.

I suppose that makes me selfish in a lot of ways.  But, really, that unconditional love on the return is why most people have dogs.  You have cats to teach you how to love; you have dogs to teach you how to be loved.

I still feel a little bad about it, but I can't shake this feeling that I need a dog right now.  There are other benefits: exercise (lots of walkies), fetch, the doggie bounce, the lolling tongue, the wagging tail, the eyebrows...

I don't know if it's this life situation, but I really miss having a dog.

Now, there is only one problem, well, three problems, and they are all staring at me as I type.  First of all, my eldest cat, my baby girl, has never really forgiven me for adopting the boys.  She pretty much lives life as if they are a figment of my imagination.  As far as she is concerned, she is an only child.  The next oldest really couldn't care.  The youngest is neurotic on his best day, a bloody mess on a bad day.  I don't want them to suffer from lack of attention, of course.  So, I have to really think if I can give enough love to four animals.  Three can be hard, although, cats go into that stage of "I'm sorry, who are you again?" because they have reputations of dignity and aloofness to keep, during those times, a dog is nice.

Another problem with the cats is I might have to get a puppy that is young enough to teach to like being around cats or an older rescue dog that has proven the same.  I prefer older rescue dogs, honestly, because the poor dears have a harder time getting adopted as it is, but finding one that can deal with these three, well, that could prove a challenge.  A puppy is easier to raise in that respect, but also requires constant attention, supervision, and training, which I don't mind at all, but again, I don't want the other three to suffer from lack of attention.

But, still, I really want a dog.  It is a desire that is as strong as my desire to have honey bees.

No, I can't explain it.

No, I don't plan to figure it out to explain it because why?  Why explain it?  It is strange and weird, but I like strange and weird.  It keeps life interesting.

I will say that through this definite low end on the roller coaster I've been experiencing paying attention to that which I suddenly find I need has been actually beneficial.  It's a healing thing.

So, I have to ask, what's more healing than happy wiggly doggie dances?

There is also the benefit of protection.  Not that I feel unsafe in our neighborhood, you understand, but cats don't tend to  tell you there are intruders nearby as outwardly as a dog.  Even when I had a yippy dog as a kid, she might bark and run down the hall, but that at least told me something was wrong.  When our door got kicked in, two of my three were under the bed, the third?  Tabster?  Yawning from his cushy spot on the comforter.  Yeah, I feel soooo safe.

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