Warning! You won’t learn a darned thing from this blog except perhaps what makes one Great Dane tick. Along the way you might laugh and maybe your throat will tighten a little from sadness. Thea has a way of doing that. This is her story, unedited, uncensored. As a writer, I respect her journalistic integrity.
I’m a Great Dane. The dog books say I won’t live long but I have little concept of time or death.
I live in the present. I love my food and treats. I love to go to doggy daycare. And I really love my laser toy. Mom says I’m addicted to it. I call it a passion.
I don’t understand the concept of privacy. I don’t like being alone. Ever. I asked mom to take all the doors off the hinges. I don’t see their purpose. We should all be together all the time – even in the bathroom. Mom refused to unhinge the doors. I love her but she can be unreasonable at times.
She really tests me when she dresses me up. Once she stuck a huge furry shark head on my noggin. What the fork? People say dogs love unconditionally. People shouldn’t dress up their dogs if they want this to be true.
I’m not sure I love the new cat. He’s what they call a Bengal. He’s really big and hisses at me when I try to say hi. I hope we can work things out. I would love to chase him without losing my nose.
I also live with a parrot. She tries to bite when I get too close but I don’t mind because she throws food from her bowl that I find delicious. Did I say I love food? I get so excited before mealtime I drool and my body shakes. Mom says I look like I have Tourette’s and laughs until she slips on my drool, then she says some things I’m not supposed to repeat. I say her comment was bad karma, but what do I know, I’m just a dog.
Another thing I like to do is lie on my back and stare at mom. I’ve trained her to come to me when I do this and tickle my belly. I know this manipulation is unfair. But it’s not my fault that I’m cuter than a baby bunny playing with a kitten.
I also like to sit on people’s laps. I plop my rear on them and ignore the fact that the rest of me just hangs off. They laugh but I stare right through them. I say perception is reality.
That’s as deep as I get. I like to keep it simple. Mom gets this sometimes and thanks me for the reminder. But then she forgets and worries. Sometimes she checks my breathing while I’m asleep.
I wish everyone could live like I do – simply and in the present. I wish my mom didn’t worry so much. Sometimes she cries thinking about the day I won’t be here anymore.
I heard a human once recite this quote: “It’s not the years in your life, but the life in your years that count.” They said some old politician coined the phrase, which made me really mad. No way. He definitely stole that from a dog.
If I could, I would recite this line to my mom every night. It would make her feel better and, well, it’s just the truth.