Diamonds in the Rough

I’m just going to say it. My husband is just like my dog. I don’t mean this in the “all men are dogs” sense, but more in the sense that they have a lot in common, more than I originally believed was possible between man and canine. As I have observed this dynamic duo in my household over the past two years, I have learned quite a bit about why good dogs and good husbands should be considered women’s best friends, in addition to diamonds of course. Both provide opportunities for us to learn about ourselves in ways that are both amusing and introspective. They force us to view ourselves as someone else would and take note of the image that we project to others. My husband and my dog sense when I am vulnerable as well as when I am up for a good time. With dogs there is no pretext; if you do the right thing and treat them well, they are in love. With husbands, much is the same.

My observation of this phenomenon began when my husband brought home a tiny black mutt that had been found in a box with his brothers and sisters in a Taco Bell parking lot. The puppy was so pathetic looking with his mangled tail and too-thin frame, but my husband grew attached to him immediately. My husband broke all the house rules about puppies that we had established for our first dog, who was now about 3 years old. He felt so bad for this poor creature that he allowed him to get on our new white chairs, a decision that would later prove a big, costly mistake, and to sleep in our bed. The two of them were thick as thieves and it soon became obvious that these two specimens, my dog and my husband couldn’t be more similar unless they were actually brothers by birth. Having done a little research, I know that this is still not possible, except maybe in Korea, but with cloning going the way that it is, it’s only matter of time really. Nevertheless, it became immediately evident that these two would alter my outlook on life in ways that I could never have imagined.

To begin with, both my husband and my dog are social butterflies. They need people around at all times. I however tend to be more hermit-like in personality. Watching Pride and Prejudice or The Notebook on my couch with a cup of ice cream and a glass of pinot grigio is my idea of a good time, sad as that may be. However, at least once a week my husband invites his friends over for a post-college-aged game of beer pong or to watch football on our massive, man- sized TV. Or he goes out to the bar with some friends. He lives to tell loud, raucous stories, to anyone who will listen and most of the time, the whole bar is given the opportunity, due to his lack of an inside voice. However, my husband just thinks of this as a growing audience, the more the merrier. Unfortunately, not all parents with children will necessarily agree.

My dog is similar in nature, not so much in the beer drinking aspect, but in the sense that he eagerly anticipates interaction with others. He stares out the window, anxiously hoping the UPS man or some unwitting teenager selling magazines for his supposed soccer team’s trip to Thailand will hopefully stop by, giving him a chance to let them know that he exists and is ready to hang out. Both gain energy and enthusiasm from these activities that turn an otherwise boring afternoon into one that allows them to share their gregarious personalities with others. As a result of their incessant need for constant companionship, I have realized something about myself. In order to make friends, you have to put yourself out there. My husband didn’t come by his friends magically or with some sort of prayer to the gods; he went out there, in public, and talked to other people. While I am friendly and personable in a confined space like a job or a classroom, it is when I leave the comfort of those walls that I falter. I fear the rejection of someone only liking me for what I bring to my career or my education but not as someone with whom they have other things in common. As my dog has shown me, if at first you don’t succeed just jump on the next mailman and see if he wants to play.

In addition, my husband and my dog have taught me the importance of physical contact. By nature, I’m not really touchy feely. I was never that girl that hugged her friends whenever she saw them or wanted to hold hands with her boyfriends in public. It’s about personal space, sometimes germs, but really about my bubble, as one camp counselor called it. I don’t like to feel boxed in; I need to know that there is a way out of every situation. For example, if you never hold someone’s hand then you never feel guilty about letting it go when it gets too clammy or you just saw them wipe their nose with the other and you wonder if they already did that with the one you’re holding. I just feel better with an escape route. My dog, on the other hand, has to be on your lap, practically crawling into your skin, or jumping in your face at all times. We have started to refer to him as shadow, because every where you go, you are certain to see a little black dog trailing behind you. My other dog is not like this; she is more like me. She knows when to approach, but although friendly, prefers her own space as well. I have had to adjust to this constant need for affection that our youngest dog craves at all times, seemingly unaware of the world around him.

My husband is similarly a contact junky. He likes his hugs, not just from me but everyone. I did not grow up with men who needed that constant physical contact and I suppose I didn’t know what to do with it at first. He needs to sleep with his feet touching mine or his arm wrapped, actually more like heavily draped, over my body. In the beginning, this made me a little nervous. What if there was a fire and I couldn’t escape from underneath the weight of his arm and I wasn’t quite sure how to change positions or roll over. It felt a bit like a trap or some sort of Survivor test. While his desire to be affectionate was a bit uncomfortable at first, I realized that it offended him when I pushed him away during a hug or when he tried to show his love through a kiss in public. I have also learned that allowing people to show their fondness for you isn’t all that bad. Sometimes you need a hug and shouldn’t be ashamed to admit it. It allows you to let people in to the side of you that does get vulnerable and needs support. The feeling of another body giving you its strength and support when your own is dwindling has incredible healing powers. Both my husband and my dog have shown me that it is ok to depend on other people and rely on them for comfort and it is also acceptable to show people that you love them by just being there, sitting on their feet or letting your hand touch in a crowded movie theater.

Thirdly, I have come to recognize the importance in celebrating the small events in every day life because of my dog and my husband. Granted, it is not exactly difficult to convince my husband to drink a toast to honor a significant moment in either of our lives, but he has shown me the value in appreciating even the minor successes. As a coach, each new recruit for his team is worthy of shouting, a loud run down of this child’s achievements, and numerous excited phone calls to his friends and fellow coaches. Every time he receives praise from an administrator or person in a position of authority, he becomes like a giddy teenager who has just been told that a boy likes her. I, on the other hand, tend to be more reserved. I appreciate acclaim and recognition for a job well done, like anyone else; however, I usually see life in more of a big picture sense and one pat on the back or positive moment doesn’t necessarily evoke the desire to celebrate.

Like my husband, whether it is the opportunity to go outside and play or the sound of the cookie jar opening, my dog bounces around like he’s won the lottery. He has a slight resemblance to Tigger, of Winnie the Pooh fame, as he pops up and down on his hind legs as if this was the first time he has been let out of the house or the first and last cookie he may ever eat. They share the ability to recognize that each day presents the prospect of great moments and that they should be seized in that moment and not deliberated on in order to see how they fit into the grand scheme. Getting a cookie or a new player are great accomplishments right then, so what if there’ll be other cookies or players. As a result, I am learning to laud those little triumphs that make each day better, whether its getting everything I need at the grocery store or having just one person read my article and enjoy it. These seemingly miniscule reasons to celebrate are what make up the big picture; after all, they are each pieces of the final mosaic.

Lastly, try everything at least once is a motto that I have learned from my husband-dog team. I once came in to the kitchen to find my husband tasting one of those fancy dog cookies with the icing on them, just to see what it was like. I think he would have eaten more of it, as the dogs stared at him with pleading eyes to share, if I hadn’t stopped him. When I asked him what he was doing, he simply stated that he wanted to know what it was like. Although a little disturbed by the fact that my husband would eat and even enjoy a dog cookie, nevertheless I realized in that moment that my husband always went full steam ahead, guns blazing into everything. He might not succeed, but he was willing to give it a shot. He took a job in a place where he knew no one, leaving a city full of friends, a great house, and his wife for 6 months, in order to attempt to live out his dream. He was fully aware of the sacrifices but also acknowledged what he would be missing if he never tried. Similarly, my dog will jump into a freezing stream and come out like a dogsicle with ice hanging off his coat with no realization that anything is wrong with this image. Other times he’ll run straight up to the muzzle of a much larger canine just to see if he’ll play. No qualms, no fear, just the desire to know what will happen. Both of them are slightly hedonistic in their pursuits, the desire to be pleased and happy pervading all else.

While I love a good adventure, moving to a new state, visiting a foreign country, skydiving, etc., all of these activities have outcomes that are predetermined. I know that I will eventually return home, or land, hopefully, back on solid ground. However, I much prefer the sense of stability that my day-to-day life provides. I like knowing that I have a job that I am good at and can pay the bills without issue. The thought of dropping everything to pursue my dreams with no thought to income and having that much faith in my own abilities is not something with which I have ever been comfortable. As I watch my husband and my dog, I have discovered that nothing is gained by sitting on the sidelines. Watching the water in the stream isn’t nearly as much fun as splashing head long into it and knowing that a dream job is out there is not nearly as enjoyable as taking steps to pursue it. Even if the end result is too cold or unsuccessful, at least I can’t say that I didn’t try.
In the end, while diamonds may be some women’s best friends, I believe that my two best friends are far more valuable. Don’t get me wrong, my husband and my dog can both create huge messes and make inappropriate noises in public, but the lessons that I have learned about myself simply by being around them are worth every dirty sock and torn up piece of garbage. I know that the stained carpeting and mountain of dishes left in the sink, while frustrating, are by-products of two spontaneous, loving, fabulous creatures. They have teamed up to bust me out of my shell and show me the true worth of every single day. I know that we have all found each other for a particular reason, although not necessarily obvious at times. Sparkle is nice, but I’ll take scruff and slobber any day.