I’d be mortified. Or in jail.
She would gladly share my dress size, the fact that I have chin hairs, that I’m an easy drunk (one glass of wine and I’m ready for a nap), how I talk (yell) at the television when watching the nightly news, that I eat in bed, my opinion on stupid drivers, lazy people and Stiletto heels (all insufferable), and how I stole a pair of sunglasses from Target one day by forgetting they were on top of my head, sales tag and all.
She would also tell my daughter that she should phone home more often, my fiancée that she loves him because he is so good at loving me, and that chopped liver should be on her daily diet intake. You’ve got to love a girl who is that honest.
All the secrets she would spill would be out of love and adoration. My dog thinks I am the queen of everything. One of the many things I love about her.
It got me to thinking: how much do we each share about our private selves in our public lives? And do we lie to save face, avoid confrontation or just make ourselves look better than we really are?
All of the above.
Honesty is an admirable trait, but the truth is, there are many things I am less forthcoming about. Not the least of which are my political views, prejudices (we all have them), opinions about our government and feelings about organized religion. I also conceal those little habits that ring a bit neurotic like hair twirling, nail filing and house cleaning.
While my pup has never ducked a fight with a bigger dog, human or even a motorcycle (don’t ask), she has demonstrated her fierceness to protect me. Protective aggression is the only acceptable kind. A lesson that mankind (and my neighbor) has yet to learn.
If my dog could talk, she would tell me to never be ashamed. Of anything. To do everything with a purpose, whether it’s rolling naked in the grass, eating trash or farting after dinner. Dogs have no shame. A trait I envy. If we could follow in their footsteps, Spanx would be out of business, hair dye would be obsolete, Botox would be a moot point and everyone would drive a Prius.
She would tell me the pointlessness of being greedy and wanting more. Unless of course we were discussing the stock pile of squeaky toys in the corner of the living room. Greed doesn’t come into play in a dog’s life.
Having a conversation with a dog about the events that plague our world like ISIS, genocide, beheadings, suicide bombings, war, nuclear weapons, and murder would be as unthinkable as the acts of terror we hear about each night on our newscasts. She would tell the world to stop, fly straight, be kind, love, lick, sniff butts, share, and stick your head out the window when you drive the car.
In her world, a treat means almost as much as a belly rub. Loyalty is an everyday thing, happiness means just being in the same room as you, and loving is all she knows how to be.
I recently read a post on Facebook telling us to be the person our dog thinks we are. The idea has merit. Wouldn’t it be great to have no secrets, nothing to deny or hide behind? Why aren’t we the same person in the real world as we are in our private one?
It occurs to me that my dog is way smarter than most people I know. And even though the things she knows about me could render me a social pariah even in the most forgiving of circles, I think it would be awesome if dogs could talk.
I could use her brand of honesty, sanity, calm and a random milk bone in my life.