Thoughts on Father's Day

It is Father's Day in America. This normally goes almost unnoticed for me. I am not a father. My relationship with my biological father is almost entirely absent. Yet today, I was thinking about the state of my life as it pertains to fatherhood.

The chances of my specific genes being perpetuated are practically nil. However, thanks to my brother, my family's genetic markers will succeed. One of my three nephews has already procreated twice and I'm confident the other two will do likewise at some point.

No, children aren't my ticket to immortality. That ship sailed long, long ago.

I haven't created offspring. Instead, I invested my parenting drive in obtaining and nurturing relationships with canines. My dogs Buddy, Max and Jake have been my kids. And while I'm sure none of them considered me a parent, they at least acknowledged my as the leader of their pack, their alpha. I made sure they were fed, doctored, exercised and had good lives. They will never carry my name or regale others with tales of my parenting, good and bad. But I anthropomorphize that they cared for me as well.

The thing that got me thinking about fatherhood and dogs was the time I spent yesterday with my friend Ryan and his dog, Libby. Libby is approximately three years old. Ryan adopted her from a shelter last October. She is a sweet little mutt of mixed lineage with ears like Dobby the Elf from the Harry Potter movies.

Libby has issues. Most of these seem to revolve around her food aggression. Anyone coming near her food is met with growling, teeth baring and a nip, if not an outright bite. When she gets over-stimulated, like by seeing Ryan at the end of the day after having been cared for by strangers all day, she jumps and yips and can lapse into the same aggressive behaviors. Watching Ryan correct her and love her and generally try to understand her made me realize that Ryan is, for all intents and purposes, her father. Just as I am to Jake now and Buddy and Max before him.

When I leave this realm, there will be very little to mark my passing. I am surprisingly okay with that. I have known the love of other creatures and I am better for it.