After much debate and continuous advice from my wife and family, I decided to add a new addition to our family in the form of a female liver-and-white English springer spaniel puppy. We call her Molly.
She came to us at seven weeks old from Liberty Kennels in Grove City, Pa., on June 20. She is very well marked in her colors and a pretty pooch. She is now 16 weeks old.
We have all heard of the saying "leading a dog's life." In this piece, I will try to unravel some comparisons and the many differences between humans and canines, especially Molly.
Being a puppy, Molly doesn't have too many requirements for everyday living. She requires a good home within the house, love and affection, lots of understanding - which she has, for, as a puppy, she will have many accidents, if you know what I mean.
She is fed twice daily, with fresh, cool water and has a nice display of toys she just loves to chew. Treats are given when she is good, which sometimes is not too often.
Her puppy teeth make her similar to a piranha, as she enjoys chewing on everything, including her toys, trees, all vegetation, some furniture and, of course, my old legs and arms.
New words are being thrown at her, and she tries to digest them like her favorite treat. Words like "stay" and "down" are most common.
When she doesn't behave, a few curse words may be intermingled, which I won't repeat here.
She loves chasing rabbits and squirrels and birds that pass frequently in our backyard. I wonder, if she would ever catch one, what would she do with it?
She knows her name really well by now, and waits for our return when we leave for a few hours of shopping or a night out for dinner. She knows we are home just by the sound of the car. She greets us at the door as if we were gone for months.
She doesn't know much about the weather, but when she is outside and it begins to rain, she rushes to come into the house with wet and dirty feet. Thunder and lightning don't seem to bother her.
Sports are a subject she cannot comprehend other than playing with an old football, fetching it and then refusing to give me the ball.
She wasn't elated over Youngstown State University beating Pitt at their first football game, or the Browns or Steelers or Pirates and Indians, or Ohio State, despite much talk at the dinner table.
In politics, she is neither conservative nor liberal, and never heard of Romney or Obama or even Clint Eastwood, and couldn't care less.
She didn't go to the Canfield Fair and doesn't have a favorite restaurant, and she will not dabble in gambling when the new race track casino arrives in Austintown.
Her knowledge on taxes and insurance are mute. She doesn't know Afghanistan from Ohio, and is that all wrong?
She loves going to the vet, for that means a treat or two. She never will go on a real vacation, only to the kennels when we take ours. Does this sound really cruel?
She has no idea about unemployment or religion. She will be contained to our house and backyard and never will take a flight beyond our Valley in a huge silver jet, or set sail to parts unknown on a sailing ship, or relax on some tropical isle.
All in all, Molly will be a good homebody, giving love and affection and receiving it all back gracefully, and serving as a greeter and watch dog while enjoying her much satisfied different life.
I wonder, as humans, whether we can also be happy giving up so many things that Molly will never see or hear about. In our dear, pampered life, could we ever stay at home most of our time and shut off the bad and also the good things in life that we are constantly reminded of and read of?
Could we ever be happy just simply leading the life of a dog?