I love dogs, though I have some trouble with the yappy ones
and also the snappy ones.
I love cats, though they cause me to sneeze or wheeze...
but I've never met a Siamese.
Ran across this in the Susan Orlean New Yorker blog yesterday:
August 4, 2010
Posted by Susan Orlean
What I notice the most is the sound, or rather the absence of sounds: I miss the click of Cooper’s nails on the wooden floor, the jingling of his tags (so exasperating at times that we considered buying those rubber jingle-stoppers), and, because he was an itchy dog, the drum-major’s thump-thump-thump as he worked his back leg up and down to scratch behind his ear. I know I will experience phantom dog noises for a while.
Cooper died unexpectedly last weekend, when we were away from home, so it felt very abstract until we got back last night. This morning I thought I heard him stirring in his bed, but it was just the window shade, shifting in a bit of breeze.
If therapists didn’t charge you and were willing to chase sticks, they would be dogs. The kindly and receptive silence, the respect for secrets, the inexhaustible supply of attention—these are a dog’s, and a therapist’s, finest qualities. Dogs, though, are more fun than therapists, more tender, more dear, and certainly more admiring.
Over the last nine years, I’ve written a lot of stories, and now even a book, about animals. Given the endless number of interesting stories there are in the world, I’ve sometimes wondered how I ended up on this particular path. Certainly, I’ve always loved animals and they’re very interesting, and are also an ideal foil for examining the human condition; it all started, though, when I got Cooper, nine years ago, after a dogless decade. I had gotten my first dog when I was in college, and her death, thirteen years later, was drawn-out and deeply sad, and I didn’t think I had the stomach to go through having—and losing—a dog ever again. But of course I wanted one, and when I finally got Cooper, a lovely freckle-faced Welsh Springer Spaniel, the subject of animals—living with them, loving them, hoarding them, using them, and how our relationship to animals says something about who and what we are—was stirred up for me again and again. I’m glad of that. I will certainly not go another decade without a dog, because I know now that even though dogs break your heart, they fill it up, even when they’re gone.
Read more http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/susanorlean/#ixzz0z4H5A53v