The Things That Separate Us From the Animals
I'd
like to think that I'm a lot like my dog, Winston. A bit carefree, we both
like to eat and don't sweat the little things.
Then I watched him scratch behind his ear with his hind leg, and I got to thinking that maybe I'm not like him after all.
I started thinking about the things he does:
• Yesterday, he threw up on the rug ... again. I've never done that, although one time I threw up in a wastebasket. For most of my life I've hurled with both arms clutching the sides of the toilet. Come to think of it, kissing a toilet certainly can't be sanitary, so maybe I'll give Winston a point on that one.
• One of his many pleasures in life involves him licking his various body parts. Nope, never done that, although I have licked my fingers when I got chocolate on them. And one time someone licked their finger and stuck it in my ear, which I hated a lot.
• My dad used to say that a dog's mouth was cleaner than our own. After watching him eat some squirrel dirt, I have to say, "I don't think so."
• I once saw a "stupid pet trick" on Letterman that involved a man who laid down on the stage, filled his mouth with milk and then let his dog drink from his mouth. I thought it was hilarious. My wife, Lin, was totally grossed out. I will say here right now that I want to try this.
• Winston barked today at a dog that walked past the house. Perhaps it was a greeting. Perhaps it was a warning. I often greet my neighbors who walk past the house. I generally don't bark at them, however.
• I took Winston for a short walk today, and he really enjoyed sniffing the grass next door. They have a dog, and I suppose he was sniffing Edison's scent. Of course, he had to mark Edison's territory. I'm sure Edison will do the same sniff-and-mark routine tomorrow. I didn't mark any territory. I think there are laws that prohibit humans from doing that. Those laws often are broken when beer or wine are involved. Guilty on that one. I think it's called "youthful indiscretion."
• While I was grilling some chicken for dinner last night, Winston walked past me and licked the barbecue grease off the porch. Later he let the cat lick his face from snout to ear. Two more things I'm not planning to do in my life.
Winston is always happy to see me, even if I'm in a bit of a rush and ignore him. He gives his love and loyalty unconditionally and asks for so little in return except during dinner, when he wants everything that is on my plate.
In his younger days, he liked it when dogs on television had speaking roles. And I'll confess that on rare occasions following a baked bean dinner when I passed a little gas, he would respond by sniffing his own butt. That encouraged bad behavior on both our parts to the point where I would simply make the sound (with my mouth!), just to watch him sniff himself.
Although he does some fairly dog-like things, I think his approach to life is just about right: "I'm old. I'm a dog. And I'm going to lick myself because I feel like it. And you can watch me, ignore me or leave the room. It doesn't matter, because it's going to happen."