As I read through various blog posts, mostly those that revolve around dogs, envy raises its ugly head. I am envious that they contain such beautiful, insightful pictures of dogs. There are posts loaded with pictures of dogs sleeping, running, jumping, stealing food, playing with other dogs, posing in clothing and glasses. Pictures of dogs at their most dog-like self and pictures of dogs at their most human-like self.
Not for the first time, I am struck with how out of step with the rest of the world I am. It is patently obvious that normal people have cameras as built-in extensions of their hands. If not, they would never be able to get the money shot of their dog stealing the cupcake carelessly left on the table. If a camera was not such an integral part of them, their dogs would not be so comfortable posing for all those charming photos.
And so I vowed to have my camera ready for action. I would join the rest of the world. I would chronicle my life and my dogs in pictures. For days I left the camera on the kitchen counter. I tried to take pictures of the dogs constantly so that they would become comfortable having the camera pointed at them. Their photo’s would no longer look like mug shots. When the perfect picture-taking moment came I would be ready. I would spring into action.
So when Moe courageously stole the spatula off the kitchen counter, then his escape got foiled by the closed door to the back yard – I failed. I didn’t jump into action. I didn’t get the photo. In my defense, I was too busy laughing at his predicament. The picture of him, spatula clamped in his mouth, looking from the closed door to me, then back to the closed door, and back at me, is embedded in my mind. Those eyes. Were they pleading with me to ignore the spatula and open the door or were they pleading with me not to be mad at such a little transgression? It is an image only I am privileged to see.
I am out of step. It just may be too late to teach this old dog a new trick.