By 
A man asked me recently if it is worth it, having a dog. As a kind of mental, knee-jerk reaction, I immediately asserted that the upsides of having a dog far outweigh the downsides.
What I didn’t convey was that I have long given this question some serious thought – especially as I regularly consider my relationship with Waffle (and his relationship with others) in the course of these columns.
From the very beginning (prior to Covid, 2020), I recall being the person who most championed the concept of having a dog. Over dinners as we discussed the prospect, I relayed the joy my former canine companion (Patch: RIP) had brought to my childhood and I tried to express that feeling a person experiences when a dog welcomes them home after a day at school or work.
I know now (years later) that the reality of having a dog as a member of a family differs greatly, depending on whether one is a child or a semi-responsible adult.
As I previously mentioned at the beginning of this journey (mission?) with Waffle, it didn’t take long for that reality to sink in – the very evening he arrived at the homestead and immediately decided that he owned the place.
This is what I wrote…
“Rationally, I understood the fact that I had purchased a new dog but irrationally, it wasn’t until we were making the drive home that I fully realised what was happening… From now until a date too far into the future to fully compute or comprehend, I was going to have to be his carer, his custodian, his kin.”
And then when we arrived at the homestead…
“I set Waffle on the tiled floor of the kitchen and we all hunkered around him, all a-wonder and all a-smile to see how wee Waffle would settle in. We watched on as he set off on an ambling inspection of the kitchen and then, apparently satisfied as to what he was seeing he squatted, clenched and pushed out a huge brown poo, not unlike something you’d expect to see exiting a Grizzly Bear.”
Within these first instances of Waffle’s arrival are encapsulated the upsides and the downsides of owning a dog. It is good fun, having a dog. The wonder and the smiles at his continuous ambling inspections never cease. And yet, there are also all the various responsibilities of cleaning up after mishaps – like the bear’s poo.
Much like life in general and its bitter-sweet symphonies, having a dog at home is the best and worst of times. The key, I have discovered, is perspective.
Most of all, perspective is appreciating that the inconvenience is the point. The early mornings, the bin-raids, the sudden and unsolicited grizzly-bear impressions on the kitchen floor – these are not flaws in the arrangement but rather, are the price of admission.
And it is a price paid daily, willingly, in exchange for Waffle’s own brand of companionship, one which is uncomplicated, unwavering and, in a world increasingly-short on such things, weirdly reassuring.
Because when you view it in the correct light, having a dog is not about ownership at all. It is about stewardship. It’s about showing up, day-after-day, for a creature whose entire world is measured by your presence.
And when Waffle welcomes me home as if I’ve been away for weeks rather than minutes, I’m reminded that the messiness, the responsibilities and the sacrifices are not the whole story. They are merely the background noise to a relationship which, in its own small, mucky way, makes life better.
The end.
