Dogs, Children, Love, and Life

In my quest to keep this blog ongoing, I still intend to post more formalized, developed short essays here. They may not be publication ready but I still hope that they do some good here. Other lesser realized work can be located at my blog on fly.paper, but there will be crossover, just as this blogpost is.


I don’t care much for dogs. When I was very young, I had a puppy that was run over by a car early in its short life, so I learned not to attach myself to small things that cannot support themselves at a very young age. After a while, I failed to see the point in keeping them around. I gained a skepticism to dogs as I got older. I questioned their loyalty. You see, dogs aren’t loyal; they’re crafty. Dogs are like children (which is why obtaining a dog is such a signpost in a relationship between a man and woman). Dogs, like children, cannot take care of themselves. They hang around those who feed them and they crave attention. In case you didn’t notice, I’m not that good around children, either. Dogs hang around their meal ticket until the bitter end. If you humor a dog, you’re hooked. I don’t humor dogs because I don’t see the point of having a parasite around.

Yet despite how much of a terrible person I may seem to be right now, I can still appreciate dogs and children. The primary reason is because children love, or believe they give some semblance thereof. It’s no big deal for a child to tell anyone, “I love you.” Any good parent would tell his or her child this everyday and it’s sort of helped that it’s the concluding line of every single episode of Barney.

As we get older, it’s some huge deal when we tell one another of our love. Love is the end all and be all of human emotion, but just as many believe there are many different Inuit words for snow, there are many different classifications of love.

The fundamental principle of Christianity is love. This is probably why Christ told us long ago that we should come to Him as children. Children love so blindly. They aren’t burdened by their world experiences and are shy to share their affection. They make new friends for a single day if you take them to the playpen at McDonald’s. A five-year-old’s birthday party is just his/her kindergarten class on a Saturday. Their innocence is what allows them to love so purely, without hindrance.

Yet, while children do not understand the concept of sacrifice, they still can love to some degree. This is the kind of love that we should emulate and continue as we learn the other crucial principles of life. Yet, for some reason, as we age and gain new knowledge a posteriori we seem to lose that love we kept so long ago a priori. So much of life is keeping what kept us so good before as we strive to be better. This is the paradox in living: adding more while taking away that which is actually unnecessary.

I can’t really say the same for dogs, though. They’re stupid and they’ll never speak English. And they’re survivors with a really good plan their ancestors learned long ago. I don’t get plants either. I’ll undoubtedly have a very bare apartment.


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