Marley and Me...

It was such a good idea to put on Marley and Me. I've seen it before, so you'd think I'd be prepared for the ending, but it still resulted in gross sobs whilst clutching at my duvet thinking why the hell did I put this film on in the first place?
I know it doesn't make much sense to people who don't or who have never had a dog, but they really are like people, only so much better. Dogs don't care if your rich or poor, fat or skinny, have a good job or are delivering pizza leaflets for a living. All they care about is your love. Could you imagine people being like that?
It is said perfectly in the film, dog's treat you like you're one in a million, rare, something special. They light up your day and sure they're a pain in the butt and they make a mess and you'll find their hairs everywhere, but they bring so much more to your life that I pity people who have never owned a dog. They just don't understand how much of the family they become, so then when the dog dies, these people almost expect you to get over it as if it were nothing more than a goldfish that you won at the carnival and died by the time you got home.


Like we're just supposed to flush it down the toilet and move on, but could you imagine them doing so after
their brother or sister died? Sure, a dog isn't like a person, they can't talk to you but they listen, far better than humans. I can't even count the amount of times I've whined to my dog about one thing or another. Sure they don't live as long as people do either, but that's what makes them even more special, and we all know, when we get the dog, that they're almost certainly going to die before we do, but that doesn't stop us from letting them into our hearts (not to mention our houses and lives) and sure, your brother or sister isn't likely to leave you a steaming smelly present on your bedroom floor in the morning (and if they do you might want to consult medical help), and they shouldn't chew your favourite pair of shoes or pee on your carpet or stick their tongue your coffee when you're not looking (again, if they do, I'd consider calling a psychiatrist)   but....where was I? Oh right, just look at your dog, he may be a gangly two year old monster that eats (yes that's eats not just chews) everything in sight, who tries to rugby tackle your friends when you bring them round and jumps on your bed in the morning to look out of your window, regardless of whether you're in it or not, but he's yours and your his.
This is my monster, Rolex. And he is, in most aspects of the word- a monster. I think I'll tell you more about him another time, but he's my puppy, no matter how large and unruly he gets, he will forever be, the tiny little puppy that couldn't reach the sofa. Even if he is currently letting off stink bombs at the bottom of the stairs that even gas masks wouldn't shield you from and has already left a muddy paw print on my fresh bed sheets only put on this morning, I still love him. He still makes me laugh, every day and forces his head under my elbow so that I'll fuss him. And I don't know how I'd cope without him (which is another reason why watching Marley and Me was such a stupid bloody idea! Along with our old dog Max, also dying from a twisted stomach and buried in our garden, like Marley was, however he was an angel behaviour-wise compared to Rolex. As you're to find out in the next few blog posts I suspect)....