I Cannot Help But Respect The Dog

We got the dog because my son had a phobia. He was terrified of them, and after consulting a therapist, we decided to add Pikachu to the family. As many of you recall, I wasn’t thrilled about this. I’m not a little dog person, or a cat person, or a pet person in general. I already have kids ruining my carpet, why would I need a dog’s assistance?

But here’s the thing. Tristan is over his phobia now, and suddenly it’s my two girls’ (ages 3 and 8) time to shine.

Today my son sent me this picture, and I cannot help but feel empathy for our dog. He’s not happy in a dress and a bow. I can see that in his poor brown dog eyes and his sad little dog lips. But my daughter’s love to dress up the dog, and he takes it. They also like to wrap him up in a blanket and cradle him like a baby, talking to him in goo’s and ga’s, and he takes that too. They tickle the dog, paint the dog’s nails, chase the dog, kiss the dog, and look in the dog’s mouth as though they were doctors. The girls hold his front legs, and he dutifully stands and dances with them to the soundtrack of Moana.

I mean, I want to get this straight. I am still not a pet person. And I know, there are pet people reading this and hating me, but so be it. But the fact is, if you read the paragraph above and replace “dog” with “dad” it will pretty accurately describe my life with two little girls. Our dog appears to love my daughters on a level that I’ve only seen in one other person: myself.

I cannot help but respect this dog.


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