My Big Rebuttal

I just read a book called Tiny Ladies in Shiny Pants by Jill Soloway, and I am now a fan for life. Jill was a writer/producer on Six Feet Under and created Sit and Spin, an alternative staged-reading theatrical experience in Hollywood.

I loved the book. I love her attitude. She's sexy and funny and smart and completely female and she's amazing. And now, with all due respect, I would like to give my answer to a question she asks in the chapter entitled, "Please Don't Try to Kill Me After You Read This", which is all about her dislike of dogs. In it she begs the question, "Why do people have them... In your house...On your couches... On your beds?" She wants to know why they mean so much to us, and what they bring to our lives. (She asks all of these questions with great humor, mind you. So heed the title of the chapter, and don't try to kill her.)

You see Jill, and anyone else who's interested, dogs are the best of who we are. A really good dog lets you know when you're being an asshole, with just one look. They can make you laugh, comfort you when you cry, and humble you by shitting in the middle of a walk when you're no where near a trash can and you have to use a plastic bag as a glove and a receptacle all at once. They love you for giving them the bare minimums in life: Food, Shelter, and Love. They don't complain when you want to watch your shows, they don't fight your taste in music, and they'll sit next to you when you read a book without saying, "How's that book", over and over again.

But let me give you one example of how dogs are unfalteringly loving, patient, and kind. My grandmother Mary lived with us the last few years of her life. She loved our Golden Lab Mix, Max very much. Every day around five o'clock, Mary would pour herself a scotch on the rocks and put a handful of peanuts in a ramekin, then sit herself down in front of the T.V. to watch the news, or Wheel of Fortune.

Max would then sit right in front of Grandma's chair, a little to the left so as not to disturb her viewing of Pat Sajak and Vanna White earning millions of dollars while people bought vowels and solved puzzles. And there they would sit. Grandma shaking her glass so the ice cubes clinked and sucking peanuts out of her teeth. But you know the amazing thing? For hours, she would tickle Max on the head. Back and forth, back and forth, without a pause. For hours. And Max sat there the whole time. He never budged. He never lay down, because then Mary wouldn't be able to reach him.

And, you know what? I believe with all my heart that Max didn't do it because it felt good, or because he was waiting for a peanut to fall. I believe he did it because it was so comforting to my Grandma Mary. She needed him to sit there with her in front of Pat and Vanna. She needed to take care of someone while she drank her drink. She needed to feel needed while her teenage granddaughter was in her bedroom being dramatic about something, and her daughter and son-in-law were still at work, and her grandson was off at college and her husband was in heaven.

And that's why I will always have a dog around. Because they are always there to love you if you need it, and to let you love them if you need that more.

And by the way, Jill- My rescued boxer/mix Bogie and I saw right through your sweet ending to the chapter. We won't really believe you like dogs until you get one. But you were very right about one thing. We do project a lot of ourselves onto our dogs. And that's pretty fucked up.
But as long as we feed them, they forgive us.

And if you're not Jill, go get her book. It's awesome.