I have never had a pet. My mother thought pets were for the bourgeoisie. I would like to love an animal but can’t reconcile myself to the idea that it has been bred into domesticity for my pleasure. I draw the line at buying a companion. I like my animals wild. Sometimes I even eat them.
That being said I wonder if the ownership of small dogs is inversely proportionate to belief in God. Sure, many religious people have tiny dogs but even more people seem to worship them now. The church of the Pug, The Yorkie Temple,The Cathedral of the tiny puffy thing. Life is hard. Jesus grew up and discovered that. All babies grow up but some species stay very little and childlike so we can look at our eternal soul. That’s why lots of self help books advise laughing with a baby or a puppy.
I have never been one to do things the easy way. I love these little dogs as much as anyone but I can’t bring myself to buy one. I take my medication which helps some. I try to believe in a God who is messy but in different ways than a dog is. I guess that living with people and with dogs is a way to be mindful about creation in general. But I don’t want a dog off a leash nor do I want to make a dog wear one. There’s the rub.
I wonder what it would be like to have this fellow waiting at home for me.
Or how could I even leave for work with this one hanging around?
Then there is the cosmic mystery inherent in this face.
At least roommates and intimate partners challenge me in ways I can resist, sometimes.