I really do. I have wanted one since moving to Texas.
Maybe it was the time I spent alone, wanting to fill the silence of my first apartment. Maybe it was a fear of being alone, and wanting to have someone or something to be there during the pandemic. At one point, it was the desire to force myself to be responsible and be better at caring for others.
Regardless, I have wanted a dog.
My sister has a dog.
I actually met him over Christmas.
Rio, he is a bit much at times, and made me consider throwing my doggy desires to the wayside. He came around eventually, however, and, so did I.
I do find this desire comes and goes, though.
It's really only at 1 am do I find myself on Petfinder, curating the single Akitas, Shepherds, and Dachshunds in my area who are ready to meet.
So, serendipity struck when about two weeks ago, Hobo Johnson's “I Want a Dog” came on somewhere between my 11 pm blog writing and 1 am dog searching. Be it the borderline delirious state I was settling into the last few days of the semester after three weeks of unusually late nights, or actually listening to the song, something clicked.
In 2.5 minutes, Hobo seemed to tell me everything about myself and some.
He starts the song pretty clearly,
I really want a dog.
But he continues the song that he also wants a wife who loves to talk about her days, a nice house, with a great community, a kid who is a musical prodigy, before returning to his dog who he wishes could talk.
Not even 30 seconds in, the song unpacks so much in changing one word: just.
Hobo starts the song saying I really want a dog, but, after giving his list of other desires, he returns to the opening phrase saying
No, I just want a dog.
Only after listening for three years did I catch that “I Want a Dog” is a song in which Hobo Johnson tries to convince himself to let his dreams die, and instead let his deepest wants be lived in his ownership of a dog: relatable.
He continues, seemingly pleading with himself,
I just want a dog, dog, dog,
No I just want a dog
No longer does Hobo want his amazing wife and kids, in the prefect neighborhood, he is happy to settle with a dog: but why?
Before one can dwell on this thought, Hobo returns with the pep of a scout selling popcorn or cookies, as if he never talked himself down.
And I want my dog to be in films
Letting his dreams return to the forefront, Hobo continues his previous fantasy with his son now staring alongside his dog in films he himself would direct as his wife, a now famous singer, would deal with A and R with her record label.
I came here for the dream / and I will not leave without it
Allowing himself to speak out his desires, to recognize what he wants is worth wanting, reality creeps back in.
No Frank, you just want a dog.
No, I thought you want a dog
All you want is a dog.
Hobo, now getting stricter with himself breaks the fourth wall, calling himself by his real name, to pull himself together before returning to
Wanting nothing but the best
The wife, the kid, and the dog
A kid who will change the world,
A wife who can cure disease
And a dog who can f*cking talk.
In a moment of intimate art, Hobo says the words we are all too afraid to admit
I want the life I've never had.
I want only just to laugh.
For the world to f*cking see, I am someone to respect.
Even when I am dead.
As the song crescendos, on the back of Hobo's sobering and well-placed swearing, the seeming climax of the conflict between Hobo and Frank comes to a close as they come together in one beautiful moment: the dreams of Hobo have been accepted by the reality that Frank is all too aware of.
As the new-found happiness of Hobo accepting his dreams are complemented by the change in tune, the song returns to the start, only this time Hobo, a top the mountain, looking at the expansive valley of life, proclaims he wants a dog.
He wants a wife who loves to talk about her days, a nice house, with a great community, a kid who is a musical prodigy, before returning to his dog who he wishes could talk. He wants the life he never had, to laugh, and for the world to see him with respect, even when he is dead.
With both arms stretched like he awoke from bed, a smile as bright as the sun beaming on his face, Hobo allows himself to dream, to escape the reality faced by Frank, and be fully present in this persona he has created.
No, I just want a dog…
With the mumbling of someone holding onto the tattered fabric of a dead loved one, in the corner, alone, Hobo mumbles, voice breaking as if rocking himself for comfort,
I just want a dog.
After seemingly coming to the agreement that both Hobo and Frank could coexist, that dreams could commingle with reality, Frank puts Hobo on timeout in the corner.
As the song ends, there is a lingering sadness to the stripped down sound and noticeably lower volume as Hobo tries to convince himself all he wants is a dog.
Since coming to this deeper awareness of Hobo's song, I am left wondering
Why do we hold ourselves back and not acknowledge what we want?
Why are we afraid of the life we could have?
How often do we allow our perception of reality stop us from creating a new reality?
When do we allow our childhood imagination to acquiesce to the demands of the world: to stop dreaming?
I am left wondering why do I want a dog?
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