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"Gratitude"
I am walking with my friend Evangeline. Beauregard was barking at her dog Tea (a Madagascaran word pronounced TEE-uh), who is a spirit-dog to the bone. Tea took no mind of Beau, as Beau took no mind of me telling him to shut up. “I love my dog," I suddenly blurt out. “You should," Evangeline says. " He's wonderful. I think he’s the handsomest poodle I’ve ever seen." “Handsome, he is. He’s clever, and he’s athletic, and he’s fun to watch. He has a funny personality.” Silence. “I just wish -- I wish Beau would give me something sometime.” Evangeline squints. “How do you mean?” “He should give me something. I give him things -- food, shelter, pats, pills.” “He gives you companionship.” “He has to. The leash.” “He gives you kisses.” “I’m never sure if those are because he loves me or because I have cookie crumbs on my lips.” "Perhaps it's asking too much, to want an altruistic poodle." “My old dog was giving. We shared everything -- food, bed, exercise. She sort of fussed over me, in a doggy way. She was a pointer, and she was always on point -- for me.” “Maybe you don’t need as much from Beau. You had Casi when you were single and poor.” “Beau is my friend. But he seems so self-absorbed. And greedy. And ungrateful.” “Oh, but he’s grateful. He adores you!” “Yes. But just once I'd like to see some evidence that he cares. When he bites me or knocks me down, there’s never any sense of him being sorry. He’s a nice enough dog, but he lacks the Big Soul. I want a dog who has Big Soul.” She liked that idea. “How many dogs are really generous?" she asked. "It's in an animal's nature to satisfy its own needs.” "Not Lassie's," I said almost bitterly. "Not a golden retriever's. They yearn to do good. Mine just wants to go for walks. And bite me!" Evangeline frowned. "He's hilarious. Maybe his gift is that laughter." "Maybe," I said. "But it's not what I hoped for." "Maybe his gift is his selfishness," she said in a moment of inspiration. "His self-involvement is so obvious that it's instructive."
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