Mr. Improbable was out of town this week, so as usual I took the opportunity to catch up with some of my girlfriends. Friday night, two friends from synagogue came over for pizza and vodka whipped cream and general silliness. We made it a slumber party because I didn’t want them driving home, and they had a class near my neighborhood in the morning anyway.
Erika and Molly are a lesbian couple who have been married for five years or so. And here’s the thing: Milo figured that out. He immediately realized that these were not two separate people, these were a PACK. If one of them told him to do something he didn’t want to do, he’d look at the other to see if she really meant it. He spent most of his time sitting in between them, and was happiest when he could be touching both of them at the same time. If they weren’t close enough to do that, he’d at least manage to be able to watch them both at the same time.
That’s not how he acts with any two people, even good friends. That’s how he acts with me and Mr. Improbable. That’s how he acts with a pack.
God knows I am not one to sentimentalize dogs or their innocence or insight or capacity for teaching moral lessons. I find that an insult to both philosophy and dogs. But Milo has no politics. He has no ideology. He only knows what his senses tell him, and what they told him is that my friends Molly and Erika are one.
My dog can recognize gay marriage. I hope the rest of the world catches up with him soon.
Milo is a good liberal who respects all treat-bearing people equally and recognizes nontraditional families. He ain’t no damn hippie, though. When Erika pulled out a guitar and started singing folk songs to him, he totally flipped a nutty. Good dog.
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