A few nights ago, there was a thunder and lightening storm in the middle of the night. Buster, German guard dog and protector of the family, stayed glued against me until morning. When he awoke to find the sun in the sky and the family alive, he expressed his schnauzer gratitude in an outpouring of affection that pulled the fitted sheet off the bed, destroyed a decorative pillow, and torpedoed my plans to sleep in. “You have saved us again,” he barked (or so I assume he barked…. my ‘schnauzer’ is rather like my French… and somewhat open to misinterpretation)
An objective examination of my personal attributes might stand in opposition to Buster’s beliefs. In truth, there are a number of issues preventing me from attaining superwoman status. For instance, I am a terrible flyer. Not just because I lack superhero skills but because I throw up on planes and must consume a nearly lethal combination of gravol and anti-anxiety meds just to get into my seat. I am also slow. When I am ‘running’ in the park, teenagers frequently pass me in flip flops, texting on their iphones while I huff and puff behind them. And I definitely don’t have x-ray vision. In fact, without my glasses on, the world is a Monet painting to me – all blurry shapes and colours, lovely but completely lacking detail. When I look into a mirror (with my glasses on, of course) I see a middle-aged woman. Not bad looking (although the wrinkles are becoming a bit too engrained to continue classifying as ‘laugh lines’) but certainly not exceptional in any particular way.
But on the morning after the thunder storm, I looked into Buster’s soft brown eyes and in their reflection I was badass! I was Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider. I could conquer both real and fictional demons and save the day. And that is yet another reason why every woman should have a dog!