Beauty: My Art

Beauty is my art, and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t take effort, and I’m certainly not going to make believe there isn’t some drudgery involved.

Take bath time. Not a favorite for me or possibly for any dog. But, we submit, because we know it will bring happiness to the people we live with. We won’t smell up the house; we won’t be all greasy and gray; we’ll be clean enough to sneak up on the couch when no one is home without leaving a telltale odor behind. Yes, I guess cleanliness has its perks.

But, the truth is, a human’s idea of beauty and a dog’s idea of beauty are very different. There’s a special sort of canine beauty in being a little stinky, maybe a little dirty, maybe a little greasy. It makes us who we are and helps other dogs figure out if we’re cool or on edge or frisky or grumpy.

However, just to make Joan happy, I have tried to adopt her impossibly human values and apply them—or allow them to be applied—to myself. That’s why I call beauty my art.

But, I’m not going to get silly about it. I’m not going to try to squeeze into a size zero or get my nails painted or get my lips plumped. That’s just going too far. Besides, then I’d completely lose my uniqueness. Shane would get confused, Buddy would run away from me, and Ish wouldn’t want to play anymore. Joan might think I got kidnapped by one of those Stepford wives and turned into a robot.

I do look nice in pink, though. Don’t you think?

Best wishes, Juno