So, I’ve heard debates on both sides. Feed your dog only the “x-brand” dog food and never table scraps. Or, feed them the best your budget can handle and also table scraps. Within reason, of course. Then there’s the debate about them sleeping with you in bed or in their designated places. Some people insist they sleep in their little cages.
I have seen reports on every different side you can imagine, and I bet you have too.
Just today I read something that really opened my eyes. I can’t tell you what I read, because it belongs to someone else and I don’t have permission to share it. But I can tell you this much. For thousands of years dogs have been human companions, or maybe the other way around. These two species have formed a symbiotic relationship going back to the dawn of human kind. This isn’t me just speculating and making assumptions. What I read showed empirical evidence. This is a fact. The dog has been our best friend since we’ve been humans. Side by side we faced all that life had to offer, good and bad. Even our myths going back to the very beginning of civilization are full of stories involving canines. Our two species have been in a lasting partnership. You already know the story of the dog. How the smart ones figured out that if they hung around humans they would get food. Then they got closer, allowing the humans to touch them, befriend them. These early dogs were little more than wolves, and they helped their human friends in many ways. Protection, help in felling beasts, and much more.The dogs got protection too, and a pack that could help them in ways other dogs could not. Not to mention some yummy food the humans were all too eager to hand over. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.
In the Norse mythology it speaks of Odin himself giving his wolves Geri and Freki his food while he sustains himself on wine alone. I honor that tradition by giving my dog my half eaten steaks while I drink my beer. (chuckle)
I’ve been a dog lover all my life. I have a difficult time grieving over humans who have died, and I don’t know if that’s just because of who I am, or what. But I sure do grieve over dogs. Terribly, too. It’s difficult for me to move on afterward, but eventually I always do.
Beside me is this precious little guy I call Marvin the Terror, Eater of Souls. He’s sound asleep with his head on my knee. If I could move without waking him I would snap a pic, but my phone is on the coffee table. I love that little guy. (He’s not so little anymore, by the way)
Marvin sleeps on the bed. He eats the best dog food I can buy, and he partakes in table scraps. He jumps around the house, over the couches, knocks down computers, harasses the cats, goes outside and digs in the garden, tracks mud on my tile, and generally makes a royal nuisance of himself.
And he even likes beer.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.