It always seemed to me that dogs like things like rolling in mud, swimming, eating poop, digging in dirt, catching slobber-covered balls and bringing them back to you and expecting you to actually touch it. I mean, they’re dogs, right? There’s a reason we have negative cultural connotations on such phrases as “he’s a dog.” Because they do things we consider gross; they approach things with their dog brains and we approach things with our human brains and there’s a disconnect somewhere. It’s supposed to be like that.
Well, this just goes to prove the fact that there are exceptions inherent in all generalizations: my parents own the prissiest dog I’ve ever met. In my life. I think he’s even prissier than I am and I whine about things like camping in tents and having droplets of water thrown at me (I’m melting!).
As an example, Mr. Prisspot (names have been changed to protect the innocent), will not walk in any water. If you are on a walk and there is a puddle, he will daintily walk AROUND the puddle to avoid getting his manicured nails wet. If you are at the headwaters of the Mississippi and there are ten other dogs swimming in the water, he will refuse to get within about four feet of the water. If it’s raining and he has to go, he will hold it until it stops (or until you drag him outside and refuse to go in until he does his business). You can say the work “walk”, which generally makes him very excited to go out, but if you go out and there is even the lightest of sprinkles he will attempt to turn around and abort all future exercise. It’s raining, man–his hair might get messed up!
Example number two, his radical fear of thunderstorms. As an extension of his fear of all things wet, he is terrified of thunder and lightning storms. He will quiver, shake and tremble. If said storm happens to be at night, Mr. Prisspot will wake up anyone within earshot until he is safely escorted into a completely dark and enclosed area where he cannot see or hear the storm anymore (i.e. the basement storage closet). The rest of the household can once more resume sleep–Mr. Prisspot’s needs have been cared for.
He will watch you while you’re eating. He doesn’t bark, and he doesn’t really beg, but he just sits there and watches. Because if you are eating, Mr. Prisspot also expects to be eating. That silly doggie kibble is only there for when there aren’t enough humans eating around him (and by extension feeding him). It’s food only to be consumed when the gnawing hunger in Mr. Prisspot’s stomach is so great that he must deign to eat the food that other dogs eat; and only in secret at that. If a human approaches and sees him eating it, he will quickly stop and look at you as if to say “Why aren’t you feeding me? Clearly I have nothing else to eat. This dog kibble is nothing–nothing!”
So the next time you hear “he’s a dog!”, just remember–the person in question might not be a poop-eating maniac, but simply a Priss of the Highest Caliber, Likeunto Mr. Prisspot. Consider that.