man's best friend: ideally, also a man

As Fall Break approaches at Whitworth, you start to see students get a glassy look in their eyes. This haze is caused by three scenarios: 1. The student is looking forward to free laundry, homemade lasagna and 24-hour access to a TV remote; 2. The student is not going home and thus is picturing the four days they have to spend alone, with cafeteria food; 3. The student is going to be able to see his or her dog.

My freshman year, I thought it was just a fluke, a weird quirk that only applied to my small group of friends who felt they could trust me with their homesick desires. But as college has progressed, I've seen more and more that college students grow more wishful to spend time with their pets than their actual families. People have pictures up all over their rooms, or refuse to wash a blanket or article of clothing because the dog hair all over it just "reminds them of home." (And Katie, this isn't just you...) One friend even had an entire calendar made with 12 different pictures of her dog.

Now I never had a dog growing up, for several reasons. For one, we don't have a fenced in back yard, so logistically it would've been pretty a pretty expensive alteration to our backyard. Plus my house was always here and there and then over yonder about 18 times a day, and none of us could've really committed to taking care of a dog. (Cats are low-maintenance when it comes to indoor pets.) Sometimes when I was at the river I would sigh in longing at the family splashing in the waves with their golden retriever, or think that I might be motivated to run more if I had a canine companion. But then I would see the dog shake itself all over the family's dry blanket, or realize that I will never be motivated to run for running's sake, dog or otherwise.

So let all those dog dependents swoon over man's best friend. Sure, I might be missing out in the long run. But I've always supported the notion that a man should be able to maintain a two-way conversation with his best friend. And to me, a wagging tail or slobbering snout is a conversation I can live without.