Living Like a Dog

Like probably about 90 percent of the people that live on this planet I'm continually searching for that magical formula that's going to bring me eternal peace and happiness or, at the very least, the desire to get out of bed and face the day. And after years of searching I think I've finally found it. Forget the self help books, the meditation, the yoga, the self medication with a bottle of wine - all I need to be happy is to take after Porter and live life like a dog. Not live "as a dog" (that would be quite the trick) but "like a dog."
And what exactly does it mean to live like a dog? After spending the last five days with a dog as practically my only company and having the opportunity to observe him for about 20 hours a day I have come to the conclusion that living like a dog simply means waking up every day and just accepting whatever the day may bring-good or bad - because there's not really much you can do about it. It is what it is.  Does a dog wake up worrying about what the other dogs at the dog park are going to think of him? Is he afraid he's too old and fat and slow to chase after the ball and that he's going to lose out to the younger, skinnier, faster dogs? Of course not. He simply goes out there and if someone throws him the ball that's great. He'll do his best to get it.  If he doesn't get that one he doesn't care because  there's bound to be another ball eventually and maybe he will get lucky and get that one.  Or maybe not. It doesn't matter because it's just a ball and as along as he's out there trying to get it that's enough for him.
And I love the way a dog can take the same route on his walk everyday but to him there's always a new smell to experience or something new to see that he might have missed the time before and that makes it all brand new. Or something as simple as walking the same route in reverse turns it into a whole different thing. How wonderful to be able to avoid falling into that daily rut when you're able to treat every day as a new one.

Dogs accept you for who you are. Just a quick crotch sniff or a nose in the butt is all they need to be able to judge that you're okay. They don't care that you're carrying last year's purse or carrying an extra ten pounds. As long as you talk to them in a nice tone of voice, give them the occasional scratch behind the ears and feed them at the same time every night you're pretty okay in a dog's book. And even if you do occasionally yell at them or forget to feed them until it's time for bed, that's okay too.  Because tomorrow is a new day. And all is forgiven.

Sleep Like a Dog

He's the epitome of energy. 

Everyone's heard the expression "sleep like a baby." While sleeping like a baby implies a deep, uninterrupted sleep, I think I would like to add another sleep expression to the American vocabulary with "sleep like a dog." We've got "dog-tired" so why not it's opposite "sleep like a dog"? Or more specifically "sleep like a chocolate lab." That's the kind of sleep I want - the kind where passing firetrucks with sirens screaming, smoke alarms and potential burglars don't even cause so much as an eyelid flutter. That's the kind of deep sleep I crave.
I've spent quite a few hours watching Porter sleep or sleeping with Porter and I'm continuously amazed at his ability to sleep through just about everything - except for Boots' nocturnal gymnastics. These past two nights have only reinforced to my why I deserted from the "cat person" camp and over to the "dog person" side. Cats are evil. I don't say that to be mean. I'm just stating a fact. Cats are the spawn of Satan and there's a good reason they were entombed with the pharaohs - it was probably a disgruntled king who just wanted to shut the damn thing up.
I wrote earlier this week that Porter and the cats have reached a new level of compatibility and that still holds true. But it doesn't prevent the felines from coming up with new ways to torment the poor pup in the middle of the night.

Here's Boots doing her "peeping kitty" act while
checking out the cats next door.

One of Boots' favorite activities involves jumping up on the wicker headboard of my bed and using it like a scratching post, waking both Porter and I from a sound sleep. And if that's not bad enough, she continues to do a tight rope act across the headboard, taunting Porter with her twitching tail, until he just can't stand it any longer and has to jump up and lunge toward the headboard, usually stepping on my face in the process. Even after the middle of the night interruption, Porter has absolutely no problems flopping back down and immediately falling back to sleep. I, however, am up for at least two hours.

Last time I was here Porter and I spent half of a night together in my bed before I ended up putting him back into his crate. This time, however, he's yet to sleep in his kennel and we snuggle together in the bed, back to back, like an old married couple. His snores and snorts are comfortably similar to my husband's and strangely, even though Jack's snores drive me to the couch, Porter's don't bother me at all., And while Jack suffers from restless leg syndrome and his legs twitch all night like he's running a marathon, Porter's occasional leg twitches only cause me to wonder what it is he's dreaming about. Is he in doggy heaven chasing a plump rabbit across a green field? And what exactly does doggy heaven look like? Would it be endless fire hydrants and rawhide bones on every corner? Or are his leg twitches caused by his dreams of being chased by a larger, more aggressive dog who has figured out that despite Porter's large size he's just a big marshmallow? Whatever the cause, Porter just sleeps on, blissfully unaware that every pharmaceutical company in the world would probably love to be able to recreate his canine narcolepsy and put it into pill form. 
I'm sure it would a bigger hit than Ambien. And instead of causing you to max our your credit cards with late night Home Shopping Network purchases you don't remember making, the worst that could probably happen to you is you'd wake up with an overwhelming urge to chase a cat.