Christmas List 2011 - A Dog (or Two)
On a happier note, Santa dear, I’d love a dog – or two – for Christmas. Of course, we’d have to do something about my association’s two pet rule. They’d also have to be small dogs because my apartment is small. I love the cute little dog in the other insurance company’s ad (the one with the umbrella). Nothing against my own company ; they just don’t have an advertising dog.
Since I won’t be working anytime soon if I go to school for my degree, I’ll have the time for them. I love dogs, Santa. All kinds of dogs. Great big Great Danes that you can saddle. The mountainous St. Bernard and its cousin, the Berber. Sleek greyhounds and whippets, so mild and gentle. The handsome German shepherds and Rottweilers. My cousins had a female German shepherd. She was enormous for a shepherd and especially a female. The floor would shake when she’d trot back and forth in their house in Mt. Vernon.
I love sheepdogs, too, and border collies. The border collies are incredibly intelligent. Irish setters and golden retrievers are the beauties of the large dog family, but I adore bulldogs, boxers, and pugs, too. I interviewed a subject who owns a giant poodle named Jean-Pierre. He’s a therapy dog. His owner takes him to visit people in nursing homes and mental health facilities. He’s a very good dog, Santa.
So is Darcy, the Black Lab who lives next door. She’s so friendly and so cute, always wanting to play. She needs a bigger home, though, Santa, with a yard to play in. By coincidence, I need a neighbor who minds his or her own business. Look at this way: the Tattooed Lady loves to garden. If she rented a house with a yard, Darcy could play and she could garden, and the rest of us could get back to living in harmony again. Just a thought.
The dogs would make good security guards, too. The neighborhood is getting gradually more dangerous. If the world turns over next year, and all the illegal immigrants wind up falling into America, we’re going to need all the protection we can muster. A couple of little terriers like the ones in the commercial would make enough noise (terriers are noisy and fearless) to scare off burglars yet would be small enough not to initimidate my poor cats (Chopin is a big coward).
The dogs would also give me an excuse to get more exercise. I need more exercise – fresh air and sunshine – and I want more exercise. These are the suburbs. Suburbanites look askance at solitary walkers. I generally avoid Blockbusters on Saturdays – in fact, I’ve taken to collecting my own DVDs – because in the suburbs, you’re expected to be with someone, especially if you’re a woman. Very old women can get away with it, but if you’re under 65, you’re expected to be with a boyfriend, husband, and/or kids. I’m still a decade and a half under 65 and have none of the above.
A dog or two would solve the problem. One dog would give me credibility. Two would add merriment to the picture and cast away suspicion. It would be obvious that I love something and that something loves me back. Actually, I’d be more assured of that love with a dog than with a significant other.
I can’t understand people sometimes, Santa. Why do they abuse animals, particularly dogs (they’re cruel to cats, too)? Over in China, they eat them, although the people there are starving (still, even with the advent of communism), so I can give them a pass. But to beat and abuse, both physically and verbally, man’s best friend. They would do anything for us and look what people do to them in return.
God bless the dogs, Santa. And the cats, too. I hope one Christmas, I’ll find a dog or two under my tree or at my door (once I can figure out how to get around the two-pet rule).