dogs

    Last night we said goodbye to Gigi after a sudden medical event. She went to sleep surrounded by a heartbroken family who loved her very much.

    Goodnight, sweet pup.

    A tiny white Maltese dog is standing outside wearing a little pink harness, ready to adventure.

    I was making the bed while the cat laid on it, surfing the waves of bedding as I shifted things around carefully to avoid chasing her off. Then it struck me that I’ll never be able to make the dog into the bed again, which was one of her favorite things. That hit unexpectedly hard.

    Miss you, girl.

    Gigi is a happy mess.

    A 3 lb Maltese dog sits between some pillows. She’s staring at the camera, fuzzy white fur, big black eyes and a pink tongue hanging out the side of her closed mouth.

    Mleh.

    A Maltese dog caught mid-lick. She’s sitting on a couch and seems to be licking the air. Her pink tongue is as long as her head.

    Keeva became ill in the last week. I took her to the vet expecting she’d need some medicine and TLC. Instead we got some very bad news.

    Our sweet girl – verifiably the best pup ever – is going to sleep tomorrow. She’ll be surrounded by a heartbroken family who loves her very much and will help her rest as comfortably as possible.

    Goodbye, sweetie. I’ll miss you forever.

    The sweetest Boston terrier ever is laying on a rug on a sunny porch.

    I have a shoulder dog.

    A tiny white Maltese dog is nestled between my neck and shoulder.

    I told Keeva a funny joke.

    A Boston terrier is panting in the warmth and looks as though she’s laughing. (She just came inside and has plenty of fresh, cool, clean water in a bowl nearby.)

    A sleepy Keeva caught a patch of sun.

    The world’s sweetest and gentlest Boston terrier is sitting droopily in a sunny bit of carpet.

    Of course dogs smile

    Keeva heard a funny joke

    I hang out on parts of the Internet where people often post pictures of happy animals. All too often, someone will share a photo of their smiling pooch, and a viewer who wants to sound smart will feel obligated to add a comment like “dogs can’t smile.” Their arguments reduce to one of several claims:

    Statement: They’re not smiling. They’re using the muscles in their face to pull the corners of their lips up.

    Rebuttal: Yes, that’s how smiling works. You’ve just described the physical act of smiling.

    Statement: Dogs do that to show fear or nervousness.

    Rebuttal: Perhaps it can also mean that, but when my dog snuggles up against me and I gently pat her head, she’s not exactly terrified.

    Statement: That’s an automatic response to scratching or patting them in specific places.

    Rebuttal: When I scratch those spots, it feels good and they smile. Got it.

    To most dog owners, the notion that a dog can’t smile is as laughable as telling a cat owner that their fuzzy pets can’t purr. They can. Lots of happy dogs do this all the time. And while cats can be notoriously finicky, dogs can be thrilled when you say their name or look at them. We’ve bred them for thousands of years to be friendly and sociable. The smile-doubters have somehow never managed to make a dog — a dog! — happy to have them around.

    I pity those people but also distrust them. What does every dog in their life know about them that we don’t?