The Ugliness of Boxers

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Boxer_dog.jpg

I read about ugly animals in the Times: the star-nosed mole, the vampire bat. It made me think of my brother's dog, a boxer named Cassie. Boxers are grotesque. Cassie's smooshed face makes her face look like that of a giant bat. When she lies down to be petted she, like other dogs, rolls onto her back. Her flews (those upper lips that hang down pendulously) fold downward on account of gravity, and her bright pink gums stand out against the blackness of her flews in an unworldly, impossible-seeming way. When she runs around, saliva hangs down from her flews in droolly ropes.

I love Cassie. I love her more because of her ugliness, not less. Others love boxers too; many people acquire them, though they, like me, have no need of a fighting dog (boxers were bred to fight other dogs).

What an odd business, to love something for its ugliness. Maybe Cassie's ugliness brings out my compassion, my nurturing protectiveness, because the ugliness seems like a form of vulnerability.

Meanwhile, my twelve-year-old nephew posted a series of photos on Facebook of him and his siblings and Cassie. The photographer is expert, my nieces and nephews good-looking, the setting pristine and elegant. My eyes can't keep away from Cassie.