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| Magdalena Frackowiak photographed by Walter Pfeiffer for Vogue Paris, June / July 2009 |
I am not so ashamed to admit that I have gone from being someone who mildly judges people for hogging a conversation and droning on about something irrelevant, to that person who takes the first opening to start spewing 87 anecdotes about my dog. So of course this was the first post I had planned for this blog, but it's oddly difficult to write about something so dear to you, and not make it sound entirely like a diary entry.
After approximately 15 years of pleading with my parents on every birthday, I finally got Picasso, my currently 5 month old Belgian Malinois puppy, courtesy of my beloved brother-in-law Phiroze. We often get offended gasps and groans about his name because people seem to think this is somehow an insult to Pablo Picasso, but in all honesty, Picasso is probably the most loved entity in each of our lives, so please feel free to name your pets after me!
Picasso was actually named about 7 years ago on a Sunday afternoon while my parents and I were watching Back to the Future on TV. When I couldn't stop gushing over Doc Brown's adorable sheepdog and his cute name, Einstein - you know, because Doc was a scientist - we decided that if we ever got a dog we would name him after a public figure relevant to us. Since art is a shared interest in my family, we quickly narrowed the pool down and thought Picasso had a nice ring to it - although the little dork in me was very tempted by Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael or Michelangelo.
This is our first dog and a Belgian Malinois is probably not the easiest dog you can have, so there are those times when I wonder if we are well suited for Picasso, like when he sees red at the sight of our cook / scares the daylights out of our guests / insists on tearing his bed or toys apart to eat the cotton inside / jumps into our lily pond and comes out covered in filth. I am an extremely light sleeper and am not to be messed with between the hours of 11PM and 8AM on weekdays - if you know me well, you probably know this, but Picasso still doesn't! He not only sleeps in my room but also wakes me up between 6 and 6:30AM every morning by sniffing / licking my face / wreaking havoc on the weakest object in sight - but now I really wouldn't have it any other way!
My favorite part about being a dog owner is driving back home at 7PM everyday to have Picasso drop whatever bird or ball he's chasing and run across the yard to greet me - ears plastered down to his head / tail wagging excitedly / panting profusely. I now look forward to going home everyday, and know that there is no better antidote to the slight headache from a long tiring day at work than a furry hug.
The overwhelming feeling of good old happiness and contentment that Picasso inspires, more than makes up for the work. On the flip-side, hearing him yelp every morning when I say bye, breaks my heart. Friends who have dogs warned me about this when I was still deciding whether to take the plunge, but this is so unlike the emotional contract we experience in any human relationship, that it's almost impossible to anticipate. This got me thinking about the differences - why does it feel different to love a dog than that a human?
The obvious answer is unconditional love - but is that really an obsolete notion between two humans? What about parents / close families / or soul mates (if you believe in that sort of thing)? I think the real difference lies in the lack of inhibitions and expectations. Humans naturally build walls around themselves to avoid exposing their vulnerability - we overthink that 1AM text filled with endearment and try our best to be so very self-important, lest we appear too needy. The acceptable frequency and intensity of our expression is dictated by some unwritten code of societal norms. Oblivious to our complex rules, dogs aren't afraid to pick sides or declare their undying love, day after day. They jump up and down at the first sight of you and keep looking back when you walk away - and amazingly, do not hold it against you if you fail to display the same level of exuberance. After all, doesn't everybody just want to be loved and needed without worrying about its temporality? So I guess dogs are the Switzerland of love, and it's even kosher to brag about them (case in point, this post).
If you are dying to meet the infamous Picasso, here are some pictures taken on his better hair days –
