DOG

Ben Franklin never said: Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. He wrote: Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards, there it enters the roots of the vines, to be changed into wine, a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.

So, according to Mr. Franklin, wine is a constant proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

Methinks dogs are a constant proof of that.  Definitive proof.  

Truth be told, I am the least obvious person to challenge Mr. Franklin's views determining wine as evidence of Divine affection. When I was a child, I begged for an Old English Sheep Dog for fifteen years. I had to settle for siblings. As a young adult, I was the friend who played with dogs at parties, or brought a card to a heartbroken master who had just said goodbye to his pet. I couldn’t even begin to understand love for a dog, or despair when a dog died.    

But now I have a friend who never speaks; her eyes tell the story. 

So rather than question Ben Franklin, I want to shout-out for dogs. Not for their loyalty, devotion, or intuition; for their vision. 

Dogs see a problem, they solve it.

Master left the house. I will sleep all day so he will come home sooner.

Master is sad. I will let her pet me until she feels better. Or I will take her for a walk.  

Creatures are using my lawn for a toilet. I will pee on every blade of their grass.    

Master is pulling apart a chicken. She will give me that chicken if I am patient enough to sit here and wait for scraps. I will be patient. And sit here and wait for scraps.

Master is ignoring me. I will stare at him until he notices my tail-wagging cuteness.

Master snapped at me for eating toast and jam that she left on the table. I will sit on my spot and keep my face off the table- until Master leaves more food that smells good.  

Master is busy. I will watch our kids.  I will bark if one of them falls out of a tree.

Dogs speak with their eyes. They talk with their actions. Is there any other species on earth that communicates so clearly and comprehensively without language?  

Just yesterday I took my dog to be groomed. She vaulted up the stairs to the shop, where she was promptly greeted by the groomer’s newest child: a German shepherd.  Ripster was not a strong, silent kind of dog. He was a huge, barky, in-your-face kind of puppy. Ripster lunged at my dog so aggressively that I stepped between them, feeling the very same fear that I saw in my dog’s eyes.  

GROOMER:  Don’t worry. Rippie just wants to play with her.

ME:  No, Rippie wants to tear her apart. Limb from limb, if possible.

GROOMER:  He’s just a puppy who wants to play. They'll be fine. Come back at 6. 

Groomer took the leash of my happy-go-lucky dog who, refusing to budge, looked up at me with those eyes. Dismissed, I left the shop, feeling like I had just deserted my shy, frightened four year old at the Pre-K classroom door. It would have been a great day- had I not been haunted by the image of my dog's eyes, clearly shrieking, "How can you leave me here?" 

Imagine humanity without words. Imagine living in a world where we only communicate with our eyes and our actions.

How much more would we notice?  How much more often would we pay attention?  

Like our dogs.

They are not creatures. They are not people.

Dogs are unconditional love; a constant proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

Quing Hereby Decrees:  Ask me to choose.  I'll take the dog.