Resemblances

They say dogs and their owners resemble each other – like an old married couple, perhaps, each picks up mannerisms of the other. (what does that say about all of the Lab owners out there? “I identify with a dog who is sweet but pretty stupid, obedient but slobbery, and just like everyone else’s dog”…)

So here is the selected (aka shorter) list on how I am like Tana. I am humble enough to say its an honor to resemble my dog, not the other way around.

-Tana loves squishy landing spots. Pillows, blankets, couches, beds. She doesn’t even sleep there, just enjoys the sensations. Right on with her owner.

-Tana is not graceful. She doesn’t know her size, her dimensions, or the power of her feet. She clomps and tromps and stumbles all over everyone.

-Tana loves Ty more than anyone in the world. She dotes on him and sits by the door waiting for him everyday at 5, looking out for him to pull up. I know this because I am waiting by the door too.

-She is incredibly honest. I have never known that dogs could be so honest. When she gets a hold of something she shouldn’t have, she brings it to me. She doesn’t drop it, exactly – she is not passionless…but she lets me know – hey mom, I found something I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist it, but I know you wouldn’t want me to have it, so I am bringing it to you, please help me do the right thing. I take it from her mouth easily, and throw it over the fence (or back in the laundry hamper). She is never sad. She doesn’t even watch it as I throw – she knows, she just wanted to enjoy the thrill of it for a moment. I wish I could do the same. I might be honest, but after I finish indulging, not before.

-She delights in the little things. A tuft of her own hair blown from a corner. A toilet paper roll. A cardboard box. A stinky sock (brought promptly to mom in confession). Getting to go in the front yard – all 10 feet of it.

-She loves a good nook. I think all dogs do – they create little caves or dens or crates under furniture. But a 70 lb dog trying to hide under my chair is hilarious. I get it though. When I was little, we had an under-stair closet that was the most fantastic hideout. I would go in there and read ghost stories – the one place secure enough to let my imagination run wild. My sister and I would make forts out of couch cushions, sheets, and the kitchen table and camp out in there. My home office is tucked into our hall closet. I worked in an Airstream trailer (aka tin can) for a year. I dig small spaces, even if my butt is sticking out.

-Oh for the love of peanut butter.

-Tana won’t give kisses on command, and I won’t make her. I don’t believe in kissing ass.

-She won’t do anything you tell her to, but she’ll do anything you ask her too.

-A lot of perfectly nice, good people are not dog people. A lot of perfectly nice, good people are not my kind of people either. Tana and I are both still confused about that one though. If we could have our way, everyone would be our kind of people. Silly them for missing out.

-Tana is an imp. She loves to run up to the mud hole, wait until we are watching, and then steps in. She waits until we are yelling at her to leave it, come, leave it, Tana!!!! Then she rolls in it. She revels in the rebellion, soaks up the mud and our anger, knowing she will be in trouble and not caring for a minute. She is always totally shocked at the cold water hose bath that follows. The injustice!

-She is egalitarian. She does not want to be dominant, but she doesn’t like submitting either. If she has to choose, she is more likely to sit out – to just lay down and stop playing. She wants everyone to be equals. Equal wrestlers, equal chaser and chasee, friends. She has found a few dogs who get this at the park – they are her favorites. Others are friendly but she is annoyed when they submit, or at others when they won’t leave her be for wanting to be dominant. So she just lays down and waits. She’d rather not play than be in a power struggle.

-She has a flair for the dramatic. She has a fantastic way of collapsing with a humph and a sigh on the floor. Of looking up at you forlornly from her paws. Of pawing and licking at the floor in mock insanity from her boredom. Of getting up to leave just as you sit down to play – she is so over you. Yeah, I might do that a little.