Ridiculous, authentic.

(Photo by zhenhao Liu on Unsplash)

Dogs have their priorities right. They eat plenty, nap when they feel like it, and bark if anyone acts fresh with them. Rain or shine, they’re always happy to go for a walk or dig in the mud, with no worries about the next paycheck or loan interest rates. Adorable, fluffy freeloaders in short, and you can’t help but go “aww” when they trot up to you, tails a waggin’.

But the thing I envy most about dogs is their absolute transparency. They don’t hide behind social norms or niceties. Feeling upset? Whine or growl. Curious about a new food? Well, they park themselves on their butts and pant at you until you’re shamed into sharing. And if they need love — be warned because those puppy eyes will get past all your defenses and steal your heart.

Absolute transparency. Imagine if you could be more like a dog. The next time you’re mad at a coworker, you don’t need to send a passive-aggressive email. Just mosey onto their cubicle and bark until they cower. Want to ask out a cute person? Forget coy messages and dating rules because it is now a simple two-step process! Lick their face and show them your fluffy, pink belly. Applying for a new job? If you have the skills, you’re getting hired because who can refuse a cute dog wearing a bowtie and pretend dollar store glasses? There — done, done, and done. Wouldn’t it be glorious if we were all dogs? No more mind games or mixed signals, hidden agendas, and dark motives. Everything we feel, out in the open, our hearts laid bare and souls intact.

My Minnie is 30 pounds of pure awesomeness. She forgives easily, but after speaking her mind. Sassy and loud. The world is her playground, where no grudges are held or feelings bottled! It doesn’t matter if she’s dealing with a Doberman Pinscher three times her size or one of those supermodel Afghan hounds. She will stand tall (well, as tall as possible on those stumpy corgi legs) and put them in place. Instagram filters or curated camera angles? Pshaw! This little firecracker embraces her rounded tummy, her kooky personality, and is always her authentic, ridiculous self. If I have even a tenth of her spirit and honesty, I would consider myself lucky.

The idiom “it’s a dog’s life” signifies an unpleasant, dreary existence — something to be avoided or pitied at all costs. Well, whoever came up with that phrase had it all wrong.

Dogs have their priorities right. And if you’ve ever met one, you’d agree with me.

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