If I could just grab his sweet face between my hands and look into his eyes and say “I love you I love you I love you.”
If only John would chase me around the living room trying to put his nose up my ass.
If only he would jump up when he sees me and howl for joy.
If only I could wake up with him curled around my face.
If only he would eat from my open palm.
Dogs are easier to love than husbands. They’re quieter. More loyal. Less critical. Easier to take care of. Not as picky about what they eat. Dogs don’t channel surf, leave wet towels on the bathroom floor or succumb to road rage.
On the plus side, John doesn’t chase cars, pee on my hostas or chew my shoes. He doesn’t hide in the bathtub during thunderstorms or shred newspapers or gnaw the knobs off my bureau.
What I was trying to say – before I started trying to be cute – is I would love to have the kind of reckless, out of control, undomesticated relationship with my husband that I have with my dog. Maybe one day I will have shed my inhibitions and I will be able to love my husband like I love my dog.