I have a deficiency, some would say I’m dysfunctional. It has nothing to do with me being a bit OCD or anxious, or having wild hair or forgetting to put on make-up in the morning, or singing aloud in car parks.
I have never owned a dog myself.
Now, in the history of humankind, I’m not the only person in that category but to a huge group of people I know, there is obviously something a little odd about me. I already qualify as odd for (a) the reasons listed above and (b) having had cats for my entire life. But the dog thing is completely incomprehensible without having been through trauma.
I like dogs. They are fun, generous, smelly, noisy, curious, bouncy, excitable, reserved, thoughtful, loyal and more. Hundreds of different colour and coat combinations, different heights, different demeanours and attitudes. And yet I still haven’t had my own dog.
To be true, I could have have brought a puppy to the house when our cats were younger and the cats would have most likely trained the puppy into a proper “cat-fearing” dog, but DH didn’t want a dog and I didn’t want one enough to put in the effort. So we remained dog-less.
The more I think about it, the more I think it is not due to me loving cats. It is because the dogs who were valued by my family members were all working dogs on the farm. Tough Australian kelpies and collies, the pride of a working farm and the best dogs in the world. You don’t mess around with a sheepdog – he is a member of the farm team and family, and puts in more work than you do some days. This photo gallery will give you an idea of what these fine dogs do. Consequently, I look a bit surprised (still!) when people tell me their dogs sleep on their beds, and so on.
In the meantime, I will be that soppy woman who loves cats, walks other people’s dogs and tells her DD that despite the size of our house, a dachshund just wouldn’t fit in.