I want a dog, I think

While I was in the States I visited my brother in Connecticut.  House in the suburbs, two cars in the garage, the whole nine yards, as they say.  Not my kind of life, but nice and my brother and his wife are happy.  The one thing they do have that I could easily take away is their dog.  Sammy is his name and he's a rescued bichon.  Curly, white haired and much too big to be a real bichon, but I guess he was the opposite of the runt of the litter.

Now,  I am not an animal lover.  I grew up pretty frightened of dogs and can clearly remember a traumatic experience when I was about 10 and walking home from a friend's house.  I was alone, the way back was unfamiliar and I got slightly lost.  Suddenly I was cornered (or so it seemed to my 10 year old self) by a large dog, no leash, no owner, barking like mad.  I ran down the street, the dog followed, all the time barking.  I eventually found my way home, running all the way.  From that time on I can remember being very afraid of dogs.

When I was in India I was forever crossing streets, ducking into doorways and avoiding all the street dogs by hiding behind Ralph.  The dogs there looked really strange, all bones and bark. Most of the dogs were too tired to care very much about me, but occasionally I'd see four or five together and then I would feel genuine terror welling up.  I was never bitten or attacked and I can't say that anyone I know was either, but reality never got in the way of my fear.

So it was all the more surprising when I fell for my brother's dog.  Initially I was very wary.  I froze as he barked and barked when he saw me for the first time.  I went rigid when my brother suggested I give him my hand to sniff and finally I slightly relaxed as he went quiet when he discovered I wasn't one of the bad guys.  As the days went on I relaxed more and more with this little scrap of a dog.  I scratched his belly, stroked him behind the ears and generally developed a relationship where I could happily let him lick my palm with abandon. (I think my spouse might appreciate the same treatment, but that's another story.)

I even felt happy to be home alone with the dog.  Unheard of for me.  It felt strange.  This dog is one of the most delightfully placid creatures I have met, including many of the people I know.  He didn't ask for much.  Hardly needed to go out and mostly just lolled around.  In other words my kind of dog.  He did become more dog-like every evening after dinner when he would bark and indicate it was toy playtime, but mostly I let my brother and sister-in-law do that duty.

The one thing missing for me was that I kept expecting him to talk.  This dog had such a lovely nature and clear personality he even smiled!  I reckoned that if I'd stayed on with my brother, in a few weeks the dog would have started to talk, if only to tell me to shutup sometimes.

I've thought about getting a little dog.  It is an appealing idea.  I can see that it would fill a gap in my house that's been empty since my kids left, but the reality of a dog is something else.  Chewed  shoes, wet floors, crap in odd inappropriate places, these things do not fill me with joy.  Finding dog sitters, kennels, visits to the vet, these things also do not thrill me.  I guess I will have to content myself with being an absentee auntie to my brother's dog. 

Despite the attractiveness of the fantasy, this is not the project for me right now.