Paulette K. Fire

I do not love dogs

I do not love dogs. Dogs growl and lunge and bite. They can rip your throat out. I once saw that happen in a movie. People who love dogs say that it’s like having a child. It is not like having a child. These people should have a child, then they’d know the difference. I have three children, so I know. When people call their dogs “fur babies,” I try to be polite. I don’t say anything. I do not love dogs. Corbin is a dog. Corbin will be put down soon. He will die. I don’t want him to die. But Corbin is not my dog. Corbin is my son’s dog, my daughter-in-law’s dog, my granddaughter’s dog. Corbin is old and blind and disoriented. He bumps into walls and falls down stairs. Sometimes he doesn’t remember the people who love him. I love him anyway. Even if he doesn’t remember me. My father was like Corbin before he died. I loved my father.