I am, you know.
I know it seems silly to non-dog lovers, but dogs fill a primal need in my life. They are unconditional acceptance, consistent love, instant forgiveness, constant companions, and a presence of pure joy. What is not to love?
I know I'm not alone in this. When I studied Proto Indo-European linguistics, we talked about how the earliest Indo-European graves contain dogs and people buried together--companions in the afterlife. The history of humanity is the history of the dog.
And when my story is told, it will be the story of many dogs. Right now my story is the story of three dogs.
Yesterday was Dinah the yellow dog's 11th birthday. Since the doggies function as the court jesters in Casa de Jensen, I celebrate April first as the Day of the Dogs.
As you can see by the eyes, Dinah is a sweet, sweet girl. She was a goofy puppy for the first six years of her life-- a slightly better behaved Marly. Once, when I was ill and she was bored, she ate my juice glass. Yes. She. ate. glass. We took her to the vet to be observed, and she became a legend at the clinic. Now an older and wiser doggie, she is still playful but much calmer.
Alice is the bipolar pup. She is quiet and sweet and loving. As long as you're not a cat. She has an advanced hunting instinct, and a compulsive need to chase cats. She has caught a few and even killed one, so I try to keep kitties far away from her.