Dogs and Teeth


During one of my last Miradouro walks, right before I committed myself to my dogs’ health and entertainment, I overheard a conversation between two little girls:


“Do you love dogs?” one of them asked.


“I love dogs very much,” the other answered in a serious, thoughtful manner, “but I don’t love their teeth.”


At the time those words made me smile and I knew I would write something about them. This week my Staffie Keket celebrated six months, five of them spent with us. I remembered that conversation and found it a good subject for my weekly post.


In reality, I was left wondering if it’s possible to love something or someone if we have doubts. I repeatedly asked myself that same question and always got the same answer.


I admit that, for some, love can exist and subsist despite buts. Fortunately or unfortunately, we don’t all accept them. I am sure the love that girl could ever experience for dogs is undermined by fear. That love doesn’t have a practical existence, because teeth overshadow any possible action or feeling towards the loved one.


I think the same happens to me and to many others. Suppose you have to sit and study this possibility: “Sometimes I have teeth and sometimes I don’t”. And suppose words hurt a lot more than teeth. Do you accept the fact and peacefully live with it? My answer is no and nothing is going to change it. Wanted or not, love has commercial nuances. You have this to offer. Do I accept it? I don’t. Life goes on.


And maybe when we don’t accept teeth we start to unveil so many other unwanted aspects about dogs. Ambiguity, for instance. Crafted messages that fit more than one context and keep us unaware of teeth. Pleasing Greeks and Trojans never worked. At some point, one or both walk away. Because some day we are going to stop saying that we love dogs except for their teeth and conclude that our love is no love after all. Admiration dies. Feelings crumble. Love vanishes.


(I have to say that I personally love dogs, teeth included.)