They always say, “If I could be half the person my dog thinks I am…” Goodness, if I could be a ninth of that person, I would be magnificent. Yes, my dog knows that I screw up, she knows that I cry, she knows that I have the worst case of road rage on the planet; but she thinks I’m perfect anyway, perfect for her.

She knows my secrets. My thoughts. My moves. She knows that I drink too much and sleep too little. She knows that I question my compulsive behaviours yet engage in them anyway. She reads my mind. In fact, when we’re walking in packs, I’ll look at her, and somehow she knows I’m doing so. She’ll glance back at me, with a smile. It’s a “Mommy, I got this pack covered” kind of smile. “I’m the pack leader, and everything’s under control. Oh ya, and I love you.”

She makes me smile so hard.

I love her so much that my heart pounds when I unlock our apartment door. At each turning of that latch, I expect an at-door greeting with a wagging tail. But no matter how many times I enter, instead of greeting me at the door, she lounges on her velvet chaise, wagging that curly tail, expecting for me to greet her. When we play fetch, I chase the toy, bringing it to her. And I love how she gets a three-course breakfast, and when I’m a second late with serving of the next portion, she looks at me like it’s the apocalypse. And then she woos. Yes, she does not bark. She woos. She is very special. She is the master. And I am the Muppet. And yes, she totally saved me.

So why am I telling you this? Because I recently read W. Bruce Cameron’s “A Dog’s Purpose.” Written from a dog’s perspective, earning rank for 52 weeks as a New York Time’s Bestseller, the book depicts a dog who is continuously reborn, remembering each life, learning and applying lessons from its many existences until at last he realises his purpose.

And honestly, I did not like the book. Based on feedback from friends and fellow dog lovers, I waited to cry like I did in The Notebook, and I never did. Although cute, the book was irrational and laborious to read. But I do like how the author connected with a great audience of dog lovers. The book probably made a lot of hearts happy.

And it did make me question if my dog has a purpose. Yes, she’s the reason that I stopped the Bulimia. She’s the reason that I began practicing Yoga. She’s the reason for my friends. She’s the reason for a lot of things. But to specifically give her a purpose, I think I’d rather not. I just like her being my dog. :)

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What is your dog’s purpose?