C.G.Ayling

Tag: dogs

  • on Intangible Love

    Something I am fond of saying is this, “Marriage is give and take. You give a lot of love, and you take a lot of shit. And that goes equally for both parties.”

    Love is a truly magnificent thing which I believe makes life worth living. It is so much more than mere sex. It seems that love isn’t about doing things for yourself as much as it is about doing things for those you love, because by so doing you gain far more satisfaction than you ever gain by being a selfish ass.

    However…

    The essence of love is not selflessness, it is self. Only on the surface is selflessness the reason we do things for those we love.  Dig a little deeper and you soon find the real reason we are so eager to please our loved ones is that doing things for them makes us feel amazing. If we did things for them that made them feel amazing but resulted in us feeling like crap we would soon stop, wouldn’t we? And it doesn’t matter a whit if those we love are people or animals, does it? And yes, I believe wholeheartedly that animals are worthy of our love. Not just of our care, but of our caring.

    I have blogged about our dog[s] a couple of times, the root meaning of those posts is that the love of these precious creatures we call our pets is far more pure and unselfish than that of any human. Bacon, our dog, is the only person who never fails to greet me when I get home. She is always the first to sense when I’m unhappy, and she is always the first to soothe me. The therapeutic value of being able to pet her is incalculable.

    If you’re a pet owner I wonder if you’ve ever asked yourself which part of that equation derives the most benefit? Your pets, for your care. Or you, for their caring? I think if you investigate it you’ll find those particular scales are balanced, and balance is itself another tangible benefit we derive from the wonderful and intangible thing called love.

    I once said this

    We are hedonists, one and all, some of the flesh, some of the soul, even the heart its love, doth wish to impart, and of another, imbibe.

    Isn’t love another form of hedonism? I think it is, and I also think if we insist on considering love selfless we close a door that leads to better understanding of ourself. Me? I need to know why I do the inexplicable things I do. You see something else I think is that very little is really inexplicable. But love? Yes, it often seems to be. But that in no way detracts from love’s wonder, indeed perhaps it adds to it.

    {P.S. This post was taken from a DM conversation on Twitter with a rather thought-provoking person, namely Cat From Nowhe®e on Twitter. I’m fairly confident they won’t mind I’ve used my side of our conversation as inspiration for this post, but I have been known to be wrong :). One of the nicest things about Twitter is that it allows us to develop relationships with people we’d never meet in our daily lives. I have no idea if @kv8 is a man or a woman, and while I have my suspicion on their gender it is actually quite liberating to be able to interact with them without any of the physical nonsense getting in the way of the conversation.  If you haven’t tried it, you should.}

  • Finding Watson.

    Look into this subject even superficially and you’ll find the benefits of pet ownership, particularly and especially dog ownership, are so significant they should pretty much be a requirement. This is especially true for elderly people, who are at significant risk of loneliness.

    Although I never considered myself to be a “dog person”, my family always had pets. I grew up around pets, and we invariably had dogs. But I never had a whole lot of interest in them, and they never seemed to have more than a superficial interest in me. In South Africa where I lived alone in an apartment, I never had pets, and I never missed them. When I married, my wife insisted on us having dogs, so we did. But to be quite honest, I could have done without them. For whatever reason they were all pure-bred, and pure-bred dogs can be high strung, have health issues, and generally be demanding.

    Then we moved to the United States. Due to living restrictions we couldn’t have pets for the first year, but the moment we moved into our own home my wife dashed down to the pound and rescued Watson. He was in such bad shape the pound almost refused to let him go, for fear he would die.

    Watson changed my life. For the better. When my wife told me what she’d done, namely snuck off to the pound and rescued a dog, I was more than a little irritated. At the time our house was tiny at about 1200 square feet with two bedrooms, both filled with two people.

    Where were we going to keep a dog?

    That irritation dissipated the moment Watson came into the house. He looked at me with these terribly deep soulful eyes that entreated me not to beat him. I don’t know what the people who left him at the pound had done to him, but Watson knew we had saved him from certain death. It took years before Watson stopped cowering and stood tall and dignified once more. In all the years we owned Watson, we only saw him growl at one person, a man that came down the driveway to read the electric meter. As I write this, the sudden feeling that Watson growled at that man because he knew him strikes me.

    Watson died with his head held in my lap. Yes, that was a very sad day, and one which I have no doubt we’ll relive when Bacon, another pound rescue, eventually dies. Sadly, dogs don’t live as long as people. However, into their much shorter lives they pack more love than most people are capable of giving in all of their much longer lives.

    The bottom line is that Watson bettered our lives, and there is good news!

    There is a Watson waiting for you right now, and you are his final chance. If you’re not “a dog person”, then find the courage to go and rescue Watson, and in turn you’ll gain something you’ve never experienced before. The unconditional, absolute love of a friend who will never forget you, always be there for you, come at your every call, be happy at sight of you, be sad when you step out, be solemn when needed, be playful when the time is right, be mischievous, be greedy, and always, always be giving. In return all you need to do it feed them, exercise them, and care for them. There is something therapeutic in caring for others, whether those others be animals or not matters little.

    Dog-ownership is a win-win, but I think the real winners are the “I’m not a dog person” people more than the dogs they rescue.

    When it comes time to pick your Watson, pick wisely. Don’t go to a pet store, he doesn’t live there. Don’t go to a puppy farm, he isn’t there either. Yes, your Watson might have been born in a puppy-mill, but that isn’t where you’ll find him. You’ll only find your Watson in one place. On doggie death-row, where someone else has left him, unaware of the treasure they held. Your Watson might be big, he might be small. He might be hairy, or he might be shorn. He might bark, or he might be still. He might be black, he might be white, or any color-combination at all. He might be old, or he might be very very young. Why, your Watson might even be a she. Yet whatever your Watson is, when you see him, or her, you’ll know. And if your heart is so injured it remains so blind you cannot even see, then rest assured, your Watson will recognize you.

    Go on, find your own Watson today.