He scratches his face and that act must ALWAYS be combined with licking his nether regions. This is not a relative we must put up with. This is Oscar. Oscar is our dog.
If a relative performed some of the acts this dog does you probably would swear off family reunions. Instead this guy brings nothing but joy with every act.
The ultimate phenomenon is how this ninety pounds of lazy slob can make me feel lucky to have such love in my world. The sad statement about me is how I react when this amazing human being who lives with us constantly shows me what real emotion and warmth are and I sit there like a fat man next to a treadmill.
The human being is my wife Amy. Never has anyone worked so hard to create happiness for me. Yet here I am a blithering idiot for every accomplishment for the dog while the most I seem to muster for Amy is a half-hearted 'That's-great-honey" as I head to the bathroom.
I am moved to baby talk as I express my amazement and awe at how brilliant Oscar is because he peed outside. I have checked...I can do that!
Meanwhile, my wife surprises me and paints our guest room by herself and I am able to muster a "Nice job, Baby," (please notice the comma rather than the exclamation point to show my lack of emotional investment) and then I turn on the television.
There is nothing wrong with loving your dog. He is great and seems to actually have a real personality in everything he does but why do I think he is a genius when he pokes the ball we are using to play fetch away from a bush while this human who is the embodiment of love makes my existence actually have meaning gets a sideways hug more often than not.
Amy will take an entire night to organize everything in our house while still taking time to write a card expressing her innermost love and support for me. I never ignore it but I do not put nearly as much energy into thanking her as I do every time I say, "That's a good boy, Oscar! Yes, yes you are a good boy!" I believe I may be a moron.
Please do understand. I love the woman more than the dog. I do not know if the lower standard we have for dogs is what brings such glee when he will shake hands at my request or why I giggle like a school girl as the dog actually responds when I say "Other foot" by lifting his other foot and shaking hands. Again, it is adorable but hardly what should bring out almost heart-pounding joy.
On the other hand, Amy will pick me up from work and listen to me drone on and on about my boss (let's call her the anti-Christ) has the goal of eliminating my department and that I am not getting any respect. Here I am not showing my wife the respect she deserves for all she does and I whine about it. Irony, John Pearson be thy name.
Mrs. Pearson points out how I am too good at what I do to let someone make me feel down on myself. She points to all of my accomplishments and how my talent is obvious and that no one should have any power to disturb my happiness. She has pulled me from the depths of despair. I am going to let her know...oh wait, the dog is licking my hand. I say, "Thanks Oscar! That is just what I needed. What an incredible dog!"
Doing that implies that the next thing out of my mouth would be, "Oh and Amy, that whole keeping-me-sane thing, that was nice, too." I am an idiot.
I don't know if Amy notices that I don't notice what she does. I would be nowhere as a human being without her.
I will never belittle the therapy that comes from rubbing the dog's belly and it is adorable that he sneezes whenever I am done doing so. He is a great dog but she is the reason that I have stopped having the outlook and attention span of a chihuahua after eating a bag of sugar.
One more irony is that the dog was actually hers before I met Amy. I have checked with her and she will not lick my face first thing in the morning in order to compete. I just need to realize that while I accept and love the dog he is with me because I am part of the package that comes with her.
She actually picked me for some reason and I need to do everything to make sure she knows that I am aware of my luck.