I wish men were dogs.

This morning, Scarlette and Max went for their final round of booster shots (they are finally tag-wearing public-allowed pups!), and ran into their brother Ronie, who now lives with a family friend.

I had not seen Ronie since his adoption over a month ago, and we were both thrilled to be reunited. In fact, little Ronie was so excited to see me that he peed! He then went on to exuberantly lick my face to the extent that Max got jealous and started to growl at him. Scarlette just sat under the bench and cried.

Far be it for me to wish for the day that human males are so enamored with me that they pee on sight (flattering yes, but the ick factor would perservere).  Really, though, such an overwhelming show of adoration makes those men who can’t remember to return phone calls or show interest in anything outside of their own head seem pretty less than stellar. Misandronist females like to claim sometimes that men are dogs. I disagree. I think, in actuality, men have a lot to learn from dogs.

I present:
Dogs do not have problems expressing affection in public.

Dogs miss you when you’re gone.

Dogs feel guilt when they’ve done something wrong.

Dogs don’t criticize your friends.

Dogs admit when they’re jealous.

Dogs do not play games with you — except fetch (and then never laugh at how you throw).

Dogs are already in touch with their inner puppies.

Gorgeous dogs don’t know they’re gorgeous. (And if they do, they don’t think it makes them inherently better than other dogs.)

The worst social disease you can get from dogs is fleas. (OK, the *really* worst disease you can get from them is rabies, but there’s a vaccine for it, and you get to kill the one that gives it to you.)

You can house train a dog.

You can force a dog to take a bath.

Dogs don’t correct your stories.

Dogs take care of their own needs.

(Feel free to add to the list!)