Hi there. So you dislike dogs. Or you like them and clicked on this out of curiosity (either way you were curious, I suppose).
So let me tell you this.
People tell me all the time, why do I like dogs, why do I own one, they smell bad, they leave hairs behind, they cost money.. and whatnot. But they don’t take in mind what a dog really is like. They see practical issues or things they could not live with. I, however, don’t mind vaccuming twice instead of once a week, or walking them three times daily, or not being able to go many places without my pooch because she has separation anxiety.
You know why? Because I would not be here without my dog. I would have taken my own life by now. I had my first depressive period at age nine. I was excluded from my peers whom told me I was weird, I was a boy and whatnot. I felt truly alone. I couldn’t really seek refuge at home either, because my sister four years my senior was a problematic child and there were a lot of fights and arguments. So I did what any sane 9 year old would do. I played with my dog, cuddled with them, walked them, went on my own adventures in the forest. My dog was my safe space.
She still is.
When I cry, she finds me. When I am tired, she sleeps besides me. When I need to leave the house, she comes. My dog is at least 25% of my life, and that is only because I am not the only one taking care of her. Still, my dog is like my child. I feed her, teach her, clothe her when it’s cold... (she’s 14, yes she gets a sweater when it’s minus 10 celsius out) and in return I get unconditional love from a creature that knows so damn well what I need when I need it. Humans are rarely so instinctive.
My other dog recently passed away. When the day came on which we decided to put her down, I weeped. (Hell, I’m kind of crying while writing this). I had a complete meltdown. I sobbed unconditionally, had a panic attack, made my skin burn from all the crying. And still, there was this sweet little being slowly wagging her tail and walking uo to me with the little strength she had in her so that I would stop being sad. She didn’t understand why I was crying. She didn’t have to. She just wanted my sadness to fade. That was all that mattered to her, even though she was dying.
So yeah, I’ll take the fur on my black clothes, the nail prints on my wooden floor, the smelliness if i haven’t washed her and the eventual mental breakdown when you have to let them go over not having a dog. Anytime. Any day.