DOGMA

Since I've e-mailed this blog address to just about everyone on the planet I'm guessing some of you have never been to Martha's Vineyard so I will add an essay that is not Vineyard-centric. I have sent out a book proposal called "Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Mind" which will include essays like the following.

DOGMA

I’ve been thinking lately that it might be fun to be a dog. Not a working dog or a fighting dog but a plain old everyday house pet. They really have the life. Their only job, if you want to call it that, is to bark at every living thing that invades their territory, which really isn’t hard work for a dog. For that they get a warm place to sleep, protection from the elements and from one to three squares a day (depending on the dog and the owner). In exchange they need only provide undying devotion to said owner. I could do that.

Since puppies have so much energy the ideal family would be one with children who like to romp about in the back yard, throw things, and play tug-o-war. The dignity of an adult dog would require someone who likes to jog and drives a pickup truck. Older dogs prefer widows who live a good distance from the grandchildren but still have a nurturing nature, preferably someone who equates food with love.

Yes, the benefits of being a house pet are appealing. Take the way they greet each other. No boring small talk or formal introduction requirements. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to size others up with an ogle and a sniff? It’s probably more effective in assessing their true nature than anything they would have to say about themselves. What a time saver that would be.

Another thing about dogs I like is they can have names like Killer or Barkley and no matter how ferocious or silly no one makes fun of them at the dog park. If you’ve got four legs (give or take) and a tail (even if it’s trimmed) that’s all they’re interested in. They don’t care what breed you are either. Nobody looks down their nose at you. There is no class system in the canine social order. Not like going off to the first day of kindergarten with a name like Philomina, which would undoubtedly be morphed into “Meanie” for the next twelve years. Dogs aren’t cruel. If you threaten them they bite, otherwise they pretty much live and let live.

I have stood, countless times, staring into my closet trying to decide what to wear. Being a dog would solve that problem permanently. Their clothing options are nonexistent. Most dogs have only one accessory, a collar with a dangling license. It’s around their neck at all times. If you’re one of those little designer dogs you see on TV eating gourmet food from a cut glass dessert dish you might also have a bow in your hair, but that’s it. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know you are dressed properly for any occasion that might arise when you get out of bed in the morning? As for bathing--that’s optional. Your family will decide when it is necessary and then do it for you. And speaking of hygiene, wouldn’t it be nice if every time you went to the bathroom someone was waiting to pat you on the head, say, “Good girl!” and give you a cookie?

One thing I like about dog culture is their apparent lack of self consciousness when they beg. Children are taught at an early age that begging is taboo, and behave with appropriate embarrassment when doing so. But for dogs, even though it fails ninety-nine out of a hundred times, just one success reinforces their “ya’ never know” attitude. They never give up. I can identify with that kind of optimism. Like dogs, I’ve always been a glass half full kind of gal. Besides, who can say no to a panting, tongue lolling, tail wagging bundle of hope?

Then there’s most people’s uncontrollable urge to pet dogs. Forget about getting your significant other to rub your feet after a long day at work, but let the lazy canine in your life jump up on the couch next to him and he’s good for at least an hours worth of stroking. I could live with that.

Dogs aren’t picky eaters. I hate it when I’m disappointed with a restaurant meal. I always feel like I’ve missed an opportunity for a really enjoyable experience. Dogs don’t mind lousy food. In fact I’ve seen dogs eat stuff I wouldn’t even classify as food. Most of them would consider a big bag of smelly garbage a gourmet treat. They go crazy at the dump. You’d think it was the world’s largest salad bar. It would be nice to be thrilled with whatever landed in your bowl. Satisfaction is important in life. The lower the bar, the more satisfaction.

Yes, being a dog would have a lot of advantages. They don’t worry about paying taxes or who’s running for president. They didn’t worry about the “bomb” during the cold war and they could care less which picture wins the Oscar. Their needs are simple and basic. Some food, some love and a long walk. Yeah. I could live with that.