The perfect dog always lets you sleep in when you want to.
The imperfect dog loudly informs you he needs to smell something in the back yard at 2 a.m.
The perfect dog is only interested in her own food.
The imperfect dog perfects traits of super strength and gymnastic ability to find a stray cookie crumb on top of the refrigerator.
The perfect dog greets every person and dog on the block with a gently wagging tail and an appropriate level of interest.
The imperfect dog lunges to the end of his leash barking or snarling. Or gives an enthusiastic greeting that includes comparing his nails to the strength of the greetee’s shirt before doing a free testicular cancer screening with his cold, damp nose.
The perfect dog watches quietly from her bed while you put groceries away before soliciting fun with a play bow and a toy dropped at (not on) your feet.
The imperfect dog can’t believe you’re not going to let the ice cream melt all over the floor while you play a rousing game of tug so she amuses herself with whatever she can find in the not-yet-unpacked grocery bags.
The perfect dog could live in any household interchangeably and everyone would love him.
The imperfect dog finds just the right home with people who wouldn’t change a thing about her (after they count to ten and say the Serenity Prayer a few times).
This post is dedicated to all the imperfect dogs I’ve loved. And to my husband who doesn’t expect me to be perfect. But especially to Honey–who I recently discovered was not perfect while coloring my hair and noticed dye splattering all over the freshly painted wall, baseboard moldings my husband had given hours of his life to build, and the new linoleum floor we had just gotten installed. Where was it coming from? From a puppy-tooth puncture wound in the back of the bottle.
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It’s all those little imperfect things I love best!
Sam
I used to tell myself I wouldn’t want a perfect dog. They were just boring.
But discovering my big mess yesterday, I briefly reconsidered my opinion. 🙂
Oh too funny! Is that a big boogie on her sweet face? 😉
Honey has a bit of a drooling problem. And episodes of zoomies and bitey face often end up with delicate streams of saliva draped charmingly over her muzzle.
She’s also a very sloppy drinker. I swear she thinks she’s a boxer.
To all the dogs I’ve loved before…. (I have that Willie Nelson song stuck in my head now. Fun. 🙂 )
“Or gives an enthusiastic greeting that includes comparing his nails to the strength of the greetee’s shirt before doing a free testicular cancer screening with his cold, damp nose.”
The scary thing is that the last part might have some scientific merit.
Yay for imperfection!
Yes, it might. But most people probably don’t want that exam to happen in a public park. 🙂
Then all too soon they are taken from us, and what do we remember with tears and a smile? Those very imperfections! 🙂
That’s so true. In sixteen years with Agatha, I most remember her climbing up on the fridge to get a loaf of bread as a little old lady dog. 🙂
Life would be much less interesting if all dogs were perfect. Wouldn’t it? Sorry about the hair coloring incident. Maybe Honey wanted to try on a new fur color for a change of pace. 🙂
You might be on to something there, Kristin. I keep joking that she’s really a boxer and not a golden at all. Maybe she was trying to make her out appearance match her inner heart. 🙂
Yikes! That’s quite a mess I am picturing. Your poor walls! But at least now you have a great story, right? It’s the crazy times, the times we want to pull our hair out, that we remember the most and laugh at as the years go by. Remember that as you scrub.
Is there such a thing as a perfect dog? I really hope not.
The crazy thing is that as upset as I was as I scrubbed with shampoo, bleach, hydrogen peroxide, and whatever other methods I tried, it wasn’t Honey I was angry at. It was me. I’m the one who taught her to chew cardboard boxes for one. And I’m the one who fed her out of plastic bottles. And I’m the one the didn’t realize that the puppy tooth imprints went all the way through the bottle–until it was too late.
So maybe she still is perfect. And I’m the problem! 🙂
Oh God! The testicular cancer check line did me in! I was giggling before, but then burst out laughing! I’ll take an imperfect dog anyway, as long as she’s the perfect dog for me! I’ve been very lucky that way in my life so far. Thank you for the Saturday giggle!
Thanks! I always wonder if any of this stuff is funny. It’s so hard to tell on the written page? Screen?
You have been lucky. You have a whole house full of perfection in Bunny, Lilac, Blueberry, and Morgan. 🙂
Haha. Isn’t that the truth! I have two of the happiest imperfect dogs that couldn’t be more perfect companions.
I guess if they were too perfect, they’d turn up their noses at living with us.
Sorry to disappoint Kristine, but there IS the perfect dog, and I get to live with her for about 10 days. She fulfills every requirement listed above, AND she loves to snuggle!
The only downside is that she comes with a little brother who is definitely the IMPERFECT dog also described above!
Well, Lori, any one can be perfect for 10 days at a time. 🙂
Great post! Love the comparisons. They love us imperfections and all…gotta love ’em too. : )
You got that right. Dogs are amazingly tolerating and forgiving creatures.
Please…say it so. Honey’s perfect? Are you sure she wasn’t trying to color her own hair? Maybe she thought is was a tube of paint and wanted to paint you a picture on the wall? Maybe she can only recognize you by your hair color and every time you change it, she has to start all over again. Yes, the many mysteries of those silly, imperfect dogs and LOTS of serenity prayers. 🙂
One of the reasons I feel so mad at myself is because I hate coloring my hair. I only do it because I started turning gray at 18 years old (right around the time I met my (now) husband, hmmmmm) and I feel too young to be completely gray.
Are you telling me that if I let myself go gray Honey won’t recognize me any more?:)
Oh, yeah, I’ve got one of those. And I wouldn’t trade him for the world! 🙂
Happy weekend,
Didi & George (the imperfect whippet)
I think if imperfect people matched up with perfect dogs, the world would implode. So it’s a good thing we love imperfect dogs.
Nice post! I look at Frankie’s imperfections as a test that I sometimes fail — but never in a way that is detrimental to his health, only mine, when my blood pressure rises. And I feel so proud of myself when I get into a zen like state and pass — for example, when, instead of stomping around the house looking for something, I calm down and slow down because Frankie is skittering around my heels and I really feel bad when I accidentally step on him.
If you’re already made it into a zen-like state with only your first dog, you must be a master. Just wait until you have a few more dogs (and imperfections) in your life. You’ll be a bodhisattva in no time.
Oh, how boring pet ownership would be if pets were perfect. Fortunately, I need never worry about that with my brood 🙂
And aren’t you glad you don’t have that worry?
Oh, the hair colouring incident is so funny, sorry! It reminds me of when Beryl first got happy tail and I had absolutely no idea where the blood splats were coming from. I keep finding ones I’ve missed. You’ve done better than me:)
I think the perfect person and the perfect dog would be boring. I bet neither of them would want to live with each other!
Thanks to all of the imperfect dogs who’ve been a part of my life, and being an example of love and forgiveness!
Hmm, we always talk about what a great dog we have – but she does ALL of those imperfect things!! I guess that’s what happens when you love a dog 😉 It’s all of their imperfections that make them so special!!