The Only Bad Thing About Dogs

It’s not the fur. Even when it gets everywhere. Even when it won’t come off your favorite coat. Even when it makes you sneeze.

It’s not how they bark at leaves, or chase the squirrels, or run after cars.

It’s not the hole they chewed in your shoe, or your couch, or your door.

It’s not the way they track mud into your house, or shake it on the rugs, and the wall, and you.

And it isn’t that time they ate that favorite thing of yours — the item of clothing, or the piece of furniture, or the Thanksgiving Turkey.

It’s not the infuriating tendency they had to act perfectly behaved until such time as they need to act behaved, and then they jump, or they beg, or they pull on their leashes.

Or how they have that “poor me” look down so well that they can make you feel guilty for not paying attention to them five minutes after taking them for a two hour walk.

It certainly isn’t how warm they are when they snooze on your feet, even in the heat of summer.

Or their wet doggie kisses.

Or their stinky doggie breath.

Or the way they can destroy a tennis ball in four seconds flat.

It’s not the way the whole house shakes when they decide that they just have to scratch that spot, right there, right now, and for the next five minutes.

Or even when they just have to lick that other spot. You know the one. And then try to lick your face afterward.

Nope, it’s not even that.

And it certainly isn’t the way they love you so much, even when you know you don’t deserve it, because you haven’t been walking them, or playing fetch with them, or even petting them as much as they deserve.

Or the way they always greet you at the door when you come home and want to play, even if you’re so exhausted all you want to do is collapse on the nearest flat surface.

It’s none of these.

The only bad thing about dogs is that they don’t live long enough.

Rest in peace, Gracie. Your owner is my best friend, and you were Rio’s. We loved you lots and we’ll miss you terribly.

2000-2011