The American Family: An Imperfect Picture

These are my dog children. They are adopted. That is why they don't look anything like me. They have been a part of my family for just over two years now. We think they were breeders because Freda (top) was pregnant and eight years old when the pound found her. Fritz had such bad teeth the pound had to pull out all but one of them. As a result, his nickname is "Snaggletooth."

From the outside, just like most families and their children, things look pretty good. However, similar to our presidential nominees and their running mates, we have issues. (No, Freda did not go out and get herself pregnant again. She was such a slut we had to get her fixed.) When they came to us, these lovely puppies were not toilet-trained. Freda had a severe case of nerves, and Fritz chased the cat. As well, at night he became very irritable and would growl at us and even sometimes snap. Very odd. We just called him "Grouchy Bastard" and shrugged our shoulders. He was then only five pounds (he is now seven pounds) and had no teeth. Who did and does he think he is? A rottweiler? Oh yes. And I think I am a princess. We all have our fantasies.

Two years down the road, Freda is a bit less nervous and usually goes to the bathroom outside. Her favorite thing is getting her belly rubbed. Unfortunately, she has insomnia and sometimes keeps me up because of it. I know, a dog with insomnia, who knew? Fritz is pretty good in general. He has an easygoing temperament except at night (still) and when he sees the cat. Occasionally, he will go number two on the carpet. Damn.

So why do my husband and I put up with such unruly dog-children? The same reason any of us put up with our human relatives. We love them. What is love? I do not know. But when I look at sweet Freda's face, I feel it in my heart and know it is there. So, just like with people, we put up with some annoying things. I see it as practice in patience that I may need to extend to my human and imperfect family. Oh, you know . . . the forgetful sibling, the alcoholic grandfather, grouchy husband, or the uptight auntie. The list could go on and on because we all live in an imperfect world with imperfect people, you and me included.

All this to say, I am glad that both of our presidential candidates and their families are less that perfect. They are just like the rest of us, trying to make life work they best they can. Enough with shame and hiding ourselves because we fear judgment. Let us all get on with living and loving.