One thing that Jay has told me over and over, and over again since I’ve been here is that “it’s ok to chew what’s yours, it’s not ok to chew what isn’t.” I have to admit, this puzzled me at first. I mean, surely whatever I can get my paws on is effectively mine at the moment that I’m holding it. I believe the legal precept here is that possession is nine-tenths of the law.
By this precept I can look at what’s in my bed, my kennel, or my pen, and say “that is mine.” Indeed I can say this about the very bed, kennel or pen that I’m in! I can dig in to a feast of Pedigree this or Purina that and I can claim ownership of the benefit extended to me despite the fact that I had nothing whatsoever to do with its acquisition. I can extend it beyond that, too – to the couch I’m lying on as I write this: it’s not mine – clearly I didn’t buy it – I was not even here when it was delivered – but because I am allowed to use it at any given moment the part which I occupy can surely be considered to be mine. Likewise and similarly, while I don’t believe that I’m on title for the house that I live in, I’ve been told it’s my home now so I treat it as if it were mine. At least, I will when I’ve figured out the piddling thing.
The contract implicit here – for there surely is one – is that I will continue to enjoy the benefits being provided as long as I a) am a good boy, b) really try not to piddle in the house, and c) make every effort not to bite things which are prohibited to me – ie, things which are not mine. The contract is benefit for benefit – a kind of bartering of emotional versus physical needs which seems to work very well for all.
I’m going to keep thinking on this. It seems to engender a feeling of gratitude in me which is in itself quite gratifying, and I like that.
Oh, and by the way: I have not pooped in the house today.