Dog Days

I am currently reading two dog books. One is called Merle’s Door, about a mutt who is presumed to be a golden-colored Labrador, and the other is called Marley and Me, which is about a yellow lab. As I read these two books, which both declare Labradors to be the best pet on the planet I can’t help but wonder if these authors are on to something? I knew Labs were popular before, my family even believed that line about Labs being the best pets on the planet when they purchased Joey, a super rambunctious golden-Lab in 1994. (We were less convinced of this title when we gave Joey up in 1995.) So, is there a superior race of dogs? I can go along with the thinking that there are differences between different breeds of dogs, but could Lab-owners be correct in thinking that their swimming and retrieving dogs make better companions than all other breeds? (For that matter, does a “breed” even matter?) Could it also be true that different breeds have different personality traits, and perhaps the average American family just finds the Labrador more agreeable?

It’s hard to read these dog books and not compare every story to things I have experienced with Lina. I was looking at her the other day and considering at length, for the first time if you can believe it, the idea of whether she and I suit one another or not. I mean this both physically and in personality. Let me explain: a few months or so ago a friend of mine who had never before seen Lina was looking at photos of Lina and remarked “she looks like your dog.” What did she mean? Do Lina and I resemble one another? Is it like in the old joke (from 101 Dalmatians?) where a bull dog looks like a short fat man with a smushed face, and a carefully-groomed poodle looks like a thin woman in a close-fitting formal jacket with lots of fluffy trim?

But as I looked at Lina, and observed her actions, it dawned on me that my dog and I have a lot more in common than I may have ever realized. She isn’t fat but she isn’t thin. I think I could be described that way as well. She has floppy hair on her ears that hangs down on the sides of her face, which I’ve always said is a great face. Debates have taken place between my friends and I as to whether that hair should be trimmed or left to its own devices. I have always decided to do nothing because though it might be described as sloppy, it poses no threat to her sight. The same can be said to the fur on her face. Other dogs I have had have always had problems with hair on their heads growing downwards over their eyes, and hair from their noses growing up into the eyes and down over their mouths. Lina’s fur does no such thing. It’s almost as if she’s too practical for any such nonsense. Now I might not have a “great face”, but I do appreciate having my face completely clear of all of my sloppy hair, especially here in this Caribbean heat. I CANNOT be bothered with any such nonsense.

Okay, but that’s just how we look. What about ourselves? Well, Lina is my biggest fan. So while she’s incredible loyal to me, she isn’t always the most-friendly to others. There are of course great exceptions: the woman at the fried-food stand, the woman who watches Lina when I’m away, and her husband, the owners of Lina’s mom, and just about every member of my Escojo group. But Lina doesn’t like some of the people that live near the home where she stays when I’m away. Lina also isn’t a big fan of small children, or even some adults, that haven’t yet learned how to handle her (or other dogs) properly. This includes the little girl that plays here often. (She also doesn’t like anyone on a motorcycle, her mom taught her that one, and some Haitians get her to bark, again, just as her mom does.)

So how is she similar to me in this way? I have always been super-critical of anyone who hisses at me, any stranger who asks me about my marital status, even if they haven’t asked me my name, and anyone who makes sexist comments (and believe me, my definition of the word “sexist” is very liberal). I get snarly with such people, and sometimes even snap at them, and if it was socially acceptable to chase after their heels, barking, I just might. I make up things to tell them to get them to shut up and leave me alone if there’s no way I can immediately remove myself from the situation, and have even been known to pick a fight.

So what is the dog-equivalent of this scenario? People who don’t know how to properly pet! Petting is very ingrained in us as Americans. For example, would you ever go to pet a dog you’ve never pet before by moving your hand rapidly towards its head from high above the animal, and then snapping it away? Of course not! They’d think you were moving in to strike them. Would you instead move slowly and give a long, slow stroke to their back? Of course. Lina would roll over on her back and let you stroke her belly as well, since she knows that’s probably what you wanted to do all along.

I would be willing to be friendly with complete strangers if they approached getting to know me the way people who understand Lina do: slowly, using socially appropriate methods that won’t freak me out. Listen up Dominican strangers: don’t ask me for my boyfriend’s address-just talk to me about the weather.

How else are we similar? Lina is white with brown hair and brown spots. I am white with brown hair and freckles. Is that pushing it? When walking down the street on a mission, she can’t be bothered to remember to greet everyone she passes, even if they remember to greet her. (In my case it’s just flakiness and being easily distracted.) Lina currently finds herself in a situation where the food being offered to her most of the time isn’t that delicious. She has learned that if she holds out she will be offered chicken bones and meat scraps at the fried-food stand. I find myself in a situation where the food being offered to me most of the time isn’t that delicious, so I also hold out to cook for myself. Does that mean she and I are resourceful or spoiled? Could we be both?

Lina is very easily distracted, even from the best belly rub, by an interesting noise. Anyone who’s ever been in a room with me and TV knows that I am also very easily distracted. Lina loves going for long walks to places she’s never been and she certainly doesn’t let the possibility of getting dirty get in her way from a good hike. I don’t think there any denying that she got this quality from me. And she’s a natural swimmer. Alright, alright, I was never a natural swimmer (perhaps very far from it when I couldn’t stand the idea of water resting on my cheek, let alone anywhere near my eyes) but no one can deny that I have enjoyed swimming since at least 1999. At least.

Still, she enjoys sifting through poo on the side of the road (whereas I try to keep my interactions with poo to a minimum and only in the form of fertilizer), she greets her friends by sniffing them or chasing after them at full speed (and while I might chase my friends, I try to avoid sniffing them, especially the ones in Peace Corps), she takes pleasure in eating my things (whereas I just like to read them or wear them on my feet).