I am afraid of dogs and this fear is something intrinsic in me that I wish I could change. If I'd read Terry Bain's book "You Are A Dog" sooner - or better yet, if I'd had the book read to me when I was young after being traumatized by that great Dane who knocked me on my butt - I might be able to offer my face to a dog to lick. I know, now, what licking means to a dog. How else can they know you? From a distance? There is no distance with a dog. That's cats.

"They (your people) taste better than you do. Why do they taste so good? And furthermore, since they taste so good, why do they not lick themselves. It must not nag them as it nags at you. It seems to make no sense that they would not lick themselves, so when given the opportunity, when their skin is bare and you are nearby, you lick them. Some of them will tolerate this, but some of them will not. She Who Will Not Tolerate Licking will push you away and yell "Gross. Knock it off you stupid mutt." Whatever that means. You suspect she doesn't want you to lick her anymore,which still doesn't make any sense, so when given the opportunity, when her skin is bare and you are near, you will lick her. You are not deterred for long, since she often leaves the tastiest parts of her skin exposed, and you do not have the willpower to stay away. You want her to know how important it is to lick the places on her body that remain unlicked, and you will lick until she pushes you away again. "Are you stupid or something? Knock it off!" It is a kind of love-tap that she gives you. A gentle nudge. You know that this is her secret joy, so in a moment, you will begin again. Her guard is about to come down. She has almost forgotten that you are nearby. There it is. You see it. A sleeveless arm."

My fear has always seemed unfixable. I didn't grow up in a family that cared about dogs, (why didn't they?), so what little I could learn from the pets of friends and relatives was spotty, vicarious, start and stop. What I missed out on was not just having a dog to love, but being on the receiving end of dog love, which, if you read this gift of a book, you will understand to be pure, uncontrollable, constant but always fresh, never begrudging because dogs have nothing to hold back and everything to gain. And this seems a lesson that's not too late to learn.

When I finished "You Are A Dog" my heart felt pried open. Great books make you less afraid of yourself. They touch sad, dark places and offer you their warm hand. I went to the back porch and talked to Eddie, our chocolate Lab. "Hey, boy, what're you doing?" I opened my palm to him and he didn't bite, he licked, like it was nothing new, like I'd always been okay with this. It felt nice, wet, like forgiveness, except that he never held not-licking against me. What I understand now is that to Eddie, trust is grass, sniff, kibble, water, sky, birds, ball, fetch, more fetch, nap, wake, new day, his people, me.