Something about dogs . . .

For good or bad, I am somehow fixated on dogs.

I love adding dogs into my mix. Bad dogs, good dogs, genetically altered dogs, talking dogs, any kind of dog. Possibly even dog-like people. Not in looks, just characteristics.

This last week at Throwing Up Words I did what I call 'another dog piece'. This time I had to have some levity, after the heavy handed drama from last week's story I needed the change of pace.

Maybe its all due to the amazing dog I had as a pre-teen, Blue. I loved Blue. No one could lay a hand in anger on any of us kids if Blue was around. Protector and companion. Too much a protector, he had to be put down after tearing a visitor's pants.

Then there was the rabid dog that came onto our property one hot summer. All of us kids outside, playing, and here comes this listing, growling, mange-ridden dog. Sal's story is very close what my experience was - except that I did not have to grab that dog to stop it from attacking any of my siblings.  I watched as the sheriff was called to dispatch the beleaguered beast. Despite the danger it was a tremendously sad experience.

I once brought home a big lab that I'd watched for days. Laying on the side of the road, almost the same color as the fall grass. Always in the same spot. every day, on my way to school, just laying there. We were 'field' people (we lived miles outside of the city) and I knew she was not from any nearby homes. Haggard, skeletal, abandoned and not well enough to stand on her own, it got to the point where I could take it no more. Despite knowing exactly what my parents would say. I put her in the car and brought her home. The next day she had ten puppies. Ten.

Even today, I have this wonderfully devoted pug. He waits for me to come home, greets me with exuberant kisses, whimpers and tellings of how very excited he is to see that I did come home at long last. Then he's off like a shot, grabbing up his lion (or more recently he will sometimes substitutes his ball on a rope), trotting it over to me and just . . . wait . . . panting, expectant, waiting for that first move that says "I'm gonna get you" and we romp around the house. We play tag, we play fetch and then finally, he lets me know it's time to go to bed.You would think there was no person he would rather be with. Analytically I know he loves all of us, but emotionally it's hard to believe that I'm not the only one he loves.

They are a part of my life, and if I can't imagine a life without one of my beloved pets, neither can I imagine the life of one of my characters without their own dog.

Yes. Dogs. I have a thing for dogs. For good or bad.