My Dog Blog

I need to set the record straight on a particular issue. Let me go on record right now as saying that I am not a dog hater. I love all God's creatures, except for camelback crickets, of course. They're the meanest insect on earth. If you try to step on one, it will lunge for your throat. Believe me, they've come after me on more than one occasion.
But, back to the subject at hand...dogs. I don't hate them. True, it's not like I'm best friends with any of them, but I don't hate them. I'm just not crazy about them.
My wife loves her dogs and I think she secretly views me as an inferior life form because I don't share her emotions. She has two dogs, Toby (a male) and Tory (female). We've had the dogs since they were puppies. Someone had abandoned them, and my wife, bless her heart, took them in. They're about eight years old now.
I told my wife recently that while I liked Toby, I wasn't all that fond of Tory. Her voice is too shrill (Tory's, not my wife's) and she whines about everything (Tory, hmmm, oh yeah, I do mean Tory). "I wish we could find a loving home for Tory," I say (wink, wink, nod, nod)
"Well, Toby would miss her so much if I got rid of her," my wife says, agreeing with me that Tory can get on your nerves.
"So, let me get this straight," I say in reply. "You have Toby as your pet, and Toby has Tory as his pet. Is that the way it is?"
She didn't answer. I guess, bottom line, my wife really loves both dogs. I'm not saying, or even suggesting that she loves them more than she does me. But, on rare occasion, if she gets irritated with me and raises her voice, she immediately comforts the dogs. She never reads my columns, so, unless one of you has an exceptionally large mouth, this will be our little secret.
My wife doesn't insist I love the dogs, but she does want me to treat them nicely. It's not like I kick them, and I swear I am no supporter of Michael Vick, but I have a hard time talking baby/dog talk to the dogs.
When I come home and kiss my wife, she will say, "Speak to Tory."
"Hi, Tory," I'll say rather matter of factly.
"No," my wife will say. "Speak sweetly to her."
"How was your day, Tory?" I'll say, still devoid of any deep emotion.
"You can do better than that," my wife will scold me.
So, in the same way I speak to my infant grandson, I'll muster up the courage and say, "How is da wittle doggie doing today, huh Toreeeee?"
"Did you hear that?" my wife will say to Tory. "Daddy loves you."
And Tory, being exceptionally dumb, will believe my wife and get up and come over and try and lick my face. Yuck.
Like I say, I don't hate dogs, but I do hate being licked by a dog. Now, I know that dog's saliva is supposed to be as pure as Ivory soap, but I just don't want to be near it. But, Tory, who has no appreciation for human subtleties will immediately be convinced that I've suddenly converted to a dog lover just because I speak sweetly to her. She'll totally ignore the fact that only moments previously we were just two warm-blooded creatures who passed in the night.
Toby, isn't much better, but he does have a good disposition. Oh sure, he loves to kill a cat or a possum on occasion, but except for a little blood lust, he's not a bad dog. He's a big, black lab. I really don't mind him. I just know that if I speak nicely to me, he'll want to be up (all 100 pounds of him) on my lap.
I just want to explain my position. If you should ever hear that I hate dogs, don't believe it.
In fact, just this morning, I went into the dog's bedroom to dress. Yes, my closet is in the dog's room. When I cut on the light, at about 6:00 this morning, Tory looks up at me, like what the heck are you doing here?"
"Sorry, Tory," I say sincerely. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
Then it dawns on me. What difference does it make if I wake the dog up? It's not like Tory has a really hectic schedule today and could have used an extra hour's sleep. In fact, sleeping is what she'll pretty much spend the day doing.
And, it's not like Tory won't be able to get back to sleep because her mind will be racing with all that she has to get accomplished today. I can just imagine Tory lying in bed thinking..."Hmmm,what's on my schedule today. Oh yeah, first I have to lick my rear end, then I need to go to the window and bark at the neighbor's stupid cat. And, oh yeah, there's one of Steve's shoes I have to chew on for a little while. That'll serve him right. I know he hates me. I know he's just pretending when he speaks nicely to me. But, I also know how much he hates me licking him. What a stupid animal he is. But, it's not like I hate him or anything. I'm just not crazy about him."