Monday, May 26, 2014

Trying to even out those cat posts. . .


I am worried our dog Tita hates me.  She came to us named, and we tried to change her name to Ichigo and Mowgli, but when it came down to it, her name on all her paperwork is Tita Dog.  It is more a description of what she is to us (sister dog), than an actual name.  (Yes, I know Tita also means aunt, but in the context of being in Hawaii, it also means sister.  Not to be confused with a titah, which Tita might also be, but we’re her family and can’t notice that kind of thing.)

I sing her songs, tell her what a great job she does at eating and laying around, laugh when she farts, hug her a lot  and cuddle with her.  I let her know how jowly she looks, and how much we love her jowls.   She’s a good, even-tempered dog.  Although she is very barky, she gets along with children, not fussing when they pretend to ride her or use her as a pillow.

Often, Tita presents me with her butt, and looks over her shoulder, as if to say, “Yes, you may pet it.  It is a great honor petting my butt, you know.  I shall allow you to do so, because you are my esteemed human.”

She often lies down wherever I am, not begging for attention, but sighing heavily from time to time.  I used to think this meant, “OH!  My life is so hard!” or “OH! I will just lay over here not being pet while you look at whatever you’re looking at, which is not me.  And do whatever you’re doing, which is not me, as well.”  Sometimes, when we’re in the kitchen, she’ll lay directly in my way, “Oh, if only I had thumbs so I may help you!  But alas, I do not.  I will lie here and focus all my energy on growing thumbs.  Don’t mind me.  Unless you want to feed me.”

Then, I read somewhere that dogs don’t actually like to be pet or hugged or sang at. 

Without her being able to verbally agree to her treatment, we can’t figure out if she actually likes us and thinks she’s part of the family, or if she loathes us and it just putting up with everything because we provide her with shelter and food.  But I can’t stop treating her this way, because what if she likes it and DOES feel like part of our family and stopping would mean ostracizing her?  “Oh, that’s our dog.  Don’t rub her our call to her.  We don’t know if she consents to that type of treatment, and we’re just ignoring her because we love her and want her to be happy.” 

When she presents her butt for rubs, is it because she likes her butt being rubbed, or is it because it is the place that burns the least when I put my filthy meat hands on her?   All those goofy sighs now have a more insidious meaning, “When will I be free from this torment?  Is sweet death my only release?”  Are my songs detailing her great ability to find a place to poop or generally about how great and good-looking she is, torturing her?

I’m worried that the personality that we’ve projected onto Tita (goofy, sweet, a little simple and prone to mild bouts of depression), is completely wrong, and we’re projecting something that upsets her/completely non-descriptive of her actual personality.

I don’t know.  But, II find comfort in reminding myself that she’s never tried to wriggle out of my arms while I hugged her (then again, she could just be putting up with it since we feed her), and that every time she’s escaped, she’s always come back home.  

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