Dog-Worthy

My dog's sighs are definitive.

When she heaves out a gusty breath, she is over it: it is long past bedtime, or she should have gone on her afternoon walk thirty minutes ago, or heaven knows we are eating right in front of her to torture her.

Each sigh signals utter resignation. She has given up the fight, and this—whatever the status quo—is her life now. Forever.

Her current doom is to cuddle with my boyfriend on the couch while Bob Ross paints softly in the background. Every time I stir, she snaps awake and stares up at me with longing. And every time I don't move toward the bedroom, she drops her head slowly back down on the couch, punctuating her disappointment with a sigh: she wants to go to sleep, goddammit.

And to do that properly, she requires complete darkness, absolute silence, her bed. Anything less cheapens it.

After the fourth or fifth lamentation, she starts to feel like my conscience. I know I should be going to bed earlier than this. Do I really need to prolong my losing streak in Hearthstone? Will Reddit implode if I don't read every new r/aww post? What have I gained from staying up so late, apart from my dog's judgment?

And it usually works. If I won't do it for myself, I can at least do it for my dog. That's what her sighs say, I'm sure. On occasion, she won't even wait for me. She will trot into the dark, quiet bedroom and plop down on her cushion emphatically, forcing me to contend with the reality that in my household, my dog sets the example.

Once we have both tucked ourselves in (as we have now, because dog guilt trips work), she is content. What had been huffs of hopelessness give way to delicate snores of approval. I have made the responsible choice.

My dog lets me know what she's thinking many ways other than sighing. I could (and will) write a parvum opus about her expressive ears, for instance. But her sighs are what push me to be a better person. When I hear her let one out, I know I have some thinking to do about how I have displeased her so. And usually, whatever corrective action I take for her sake benefits me too: I take her on that walk, I put back those chips, I go the eff to bed.

I love my dog simply because she is my dog (the best dog), and these transcendent moments of understanding between us, however melodramatic or judging, only strengthen that love. I like to think that she loves me not because I feed, pet, and play with her (even let her sleep, sometimes), but because I am her human. And because I am her human, I get grief for the errors of my ways. Because I am her human, I strive to be worthy of her. And because I am her human, I want to be able to say at the end of the day, especially if we haven't officially put an end to that day, that I took care of her to the best of my ability.

Now if I could just live the rest of my life the way my dog thinks I should, I'll be set.