The curious incident of the dog who knew too much

I find myself talking more often and more in depth and more at ease with my dog than with anybody else. Ridiculous! You say. Well. . . Maybe. Then again, why not?

Talking to my dog gives me a chance to speak freely without fear of misspeaking or offending. She won't think less of me if I say something that doesn't quite add up. She'll even listen intently when I don't make sense and have to repeat myself three times to get it right.

At one time I cared for two poodles who lived in a large lonely house. To qualm my fears at night (for my alone time in the large dark space gave my imagination far too much free time) I would banter happily with the dogs until I could not keep myself awake any longer. It was a comfort to speak so freely then.

Really it's just an inner monologue, spoken.

And I think everyone has those, on some level. Some people talk to themselves. Some just sort of think to themselves. Others choose inanimate objects as their hapless victims. It's good for you, I'm sure.

When you talk to yourself, or to your dog, or to your dashboard, you're practicing a real life social skill. You're learning how to better string your own words together out loud to say what's on your mind.

Plus it kind of helps that the dog is sweet and encouraging. She won't think less of me later. I suppose on rare occasion you'll find yourself a person that you can talk to.

There's somebody out there with whom you can be completely honest. You needn't fear what they'll think of you later. They admire you entirely based on who you are. You or I only might be lucky enough to find that person.

Until then my dog must suffice.




DISCLAIMER: I'm really not crazy. really. And I CAN talk to people. If I want.


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