I get this all the time. It just goes with the territory. You see, I am the proud parent of a Great Dane.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those people who love their animals more then other people. I do love my dog, but my dog is still a dog, and people are still people. If, in proper science fiction movie fashion, some alien asked me if I would rather sacrifice my dog, or someone I didn’t know, I’d save the person every time.
At the same time, I do love my dog. She’s like an extension of myself, and as I have written every post, she has been lying right behind me on the floor. She does not sleep in my bed, there simply wouldn’t be room for my wife, and my wife is far more snugly than the dog. She does however have her bed right next to mine.
You might be wondering at this point if I am going to go into some great analogy, but I am not. I am really just going to post about my dog.
Having a really big dog is a very different experience than having any other kind of pet. Anything else this big would be regulated to the outdoors, but Danes are very much like people, and really need to be around their owners, lest they die of sadness. And let’s be honest, I’d have to dig a really big hole if she died, so inside she remains. (Remember, I hate yard work.)
This means my entire house has to be set in order for the dog. She is much like a train, in that she really can’t see her caboose, so if things are left on the edges of tables, or there are small statues around, she’ll knock them over and have no idea what happened. Poor St. Francis has lost his head so many times at this point that he looks like he has a weird crick in his neck from all the re-gluing.
But my favorite part of having Diana, (pronounced Dee-ahn-a, like the roman goddess) is the reaction from children. They are simply awed by her size, and cannot help but exclaim with delight the first time they see her, “Oh my gosh! That dog is HUGE!” It’s very cute, and though they are scared at first, they warm up real fast when they realize she is just as interested in them as they are in her. Her lips are huge too, so her expressions are very vivid. The kids often think she is smiling at them. I like to think so too.
I also think a dog of this size is much more useful than all the little dogs, and trust me, when you have a Dane, all dogs are little. (Dogs love me because I think they are all cute little miniatures, “Oh! what a cute little doberman! He can’t even weigh 100lbs! What a cute little thing.” They soon realize I have no fear of such a little creature, and respond with great sweetness.) Anyways, back to usefulness, I want to build a cart for my dog. If I ever get it made, I’ll never have to haul wood again, and my backpacking trips will get massive. I might start living in a tipi just because I can.
Once a week or so I take her to the beach, and it is then that I see her in her full glory. First she has to say hello to all the other dogs around, but eventually she will realize that I have jogged away down the beach and she will take off like a greyhound to catch me.
You have never seen such beauty in motion. She is like a gazelle, a cheetah, a doe leaping through the woods. She is both delicate and powerful at the same time. With the setting sun, she seems a force of nature, a part of the blinding light, and it is beautiful.
Until she decides to go to the bathroom, then the magic fades, and I’m carrying a bag of dog doo.