When we arrived, we stopped by the grooming salon to say hello to her groomer, Jesus, and the gang. She loves seeing them and they always take really good care of her.
When we went into the store to wait in line for our turn to see Santa, there were lots of yappy dogs dressed in cute outfits that barked at her incessantly. Ms. Lynda just wagged her tail and was her mellow self.
It was only when she saw Santa that she freaked. She saw the guy in the red suit and said, I’m done. Let’s go home.
Santa was great. Very patient and very accommodating. But the resulting picture said it all … I’M DONE!
While we were standing in line, several people remarked about how cute Lynda was and then asked, “What kind of dog is she?”
Having encountered this before, I smiled (with clenched teeth) and politely replied that, with her long ears, there’s probably is some beagle running around in there. There’s probably more, but she’s just a wonderful dog.
Her vet admired her ears during one visit and asked if I had ever considered a genetic test. I thought about it for about a minute, but what purpose would it serve? It’s obvious that Lynda has a whole bunch of breeds in her DNA. It’s not essential to who she is. She’s my baby, and I love her. Case closed. No further discussion necessary.
My cats, Rudy and River, have pedigrees that are “I am who I am.” Rudy is a Siamese mix who patrols the house to make sure everything and everyone is OK. River is a loveable, precocious cat and I’m not sure that there is a genetic test that could decipher her DNA.
As I was standing in line with Lynda, I watched those pure-bred yappy dogs barking their heads off at her as they were trying to justify their importance. She just wagged her tail as she acknowledged them, accepting them for who they are.
Our unconditional love doesn’t depend on what we are. Who we are is what is important.