Several years before my father passed away, he acquired two house dogs, Pee Wee and Sheba (he would later add a third and a fourth, Trixie and Bear) and he started spending all of his time with these dogs because he started hating people.
Saying he hated people may be a little bit strong because he didn't really hate people. He hated being around them, hating talking to them, and he really hated dealing with them. He felt people were always after something, were dishonest for the most part, and generally not to be trusted.
When I saw the movie Gran Torino with Clint Eastwood, the opening scene of the movie was set right after a funeral and Eastwood's character's reaction towards people reminded me of my father. He was grouchy as hell towards everyone and he just wanted those people- family, well wishers, or whoever- the hell out of his house.
My father valued his relationships with his dogs more than he did with any people. He took them everywhere with him and these dogs could do enough stupid pet tricks to make David Letterman proud. Molly can't do any tricks unless you consider "Take a nap!" and "Lick your butt!" tricks.
At that time, I thought the old dude was losing it but now that I look back on it, Pops may have been on to something. Me and my friend David were talking the other day and we both agreed that we hated dealing with people for pretty much the same reasons my father did. The whole conversation reminded me of my father and his dogs and I believe me and Molly are headed down the same path. Who needs people? I have a dog.
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