The individuality of the dogs in our lives
For the last quarter of a century (going back to the arrival of son #1), I’ve been growing a tree. A virtual one, with leaves that represent people. Yes, genealogy is my addiction. Nothing like making a new link. I’ve gone from tiny pieces of paper, to files stored on diskettes that are now obsolete, to whatever comes along. This evening, I downloaded and configured a simple Android app, and my data has migrated to another platform. Painlessly. In a world where everyone wants their own branded manner of doing things, the family tree people have a standard. Go, GEDCOM, go!
We’re hosting two dogs, this evening, and it brings a different dynamic to things. I understand why a household might go for multiple tails (even if they wag everything in the place). Yes, there’s some rivalry for affection (and food) but it’s sure more interesting than watching goldfish in a bowl. Maybe not this year, maybe not the next, but I might go back to a multileash lifestyle. Just like when I was starting school.
I’m not sure how goldfishers handle things, but I do remember the various dogs that have shared table and bed. Each one, a rugged individual with certain personality flaws. Memorable, even if the average passage of a dog is less than a decade. Yes, there was Chico (he hung out for 16 winters), and that’s why there’s a statue around here somewhere. OK, that’s not why there’s a statue, but it’s an easy explanation.
Truth is, I don’t exactly remember the first one, but I’ve seen a picture. Since I don’t remember me at that age, it’s a fair compromise.
