When Cara has to open the Starbucks she works at she gets up obscenely early, at least to me its obscenely early. I mean 4:30am IS obscenely early, even if you are some type-A power working hard charger that shit is unnatural. So when I actually roll over at the crack of 7 am its just me and the dog in our apartment. Sometimes Ill just sit there and pet Eddie for 10 or 20 minutes, hes half awake, he just isn’t ready for his busy dog day of barking at birds, chewing bones, and pondering the loss of his testicles. Often some part of my brain (I think its the part on the bottom left) will say something like “You have all this stuff to do, important stuff, forget this dog and go do your important stuff!” There was a time when I probably would have listened, a time when petting a dog didn’t seem as important as taking a shower or going to the bank before work. These day though I dont even pay any attention to that part of my brain, in fact Ill often think that petting a dog might be the most important thing in the world at that moment.
We (humans I mean) have taken a wild animal and played with its genetics and temperament for generations to create these guys, and our Chihuahua, Eddie, might be the pinnacle of dog manipulation. They can not survive in the wild, the have no “job” like sheep dogs or hunting dogs other than to need and give us constant companionship. They cant pee or poop when they want to or they get in trouble, they cant eat until we let them, they rely on us to be their pack, their life support, and their jailers. Believe me I do consider the fact that I am holding a small living creature hostage in my apartment because it makes me feel good when he is happy to see me (which is always). I’m sure they are happy, we have bred them to be that way.
So when i take 5 or 10 minutes out of my day just to have this little guy laying in the crook of my arm and scratch his chest it feels pretty important. Its my way, I hope, of giving back to this little creature I love and who makes me happy daily. If I can make him feel relaxed and loved and his little grunty noises of satisfaction tell me that I can, then maybe it is ok that we “own” this little living thing.