Bisc turns five next week. I’m ecstatic to celebrate his birthday with him. Ice cream may or may not be in the plans.

Over the past year or so, I’ve been wondering if worshipping your dog is a privilege reserved for crazy white people.

On the surface, the only real privileged expense we (his co-parents) spend on B is the woman who comes to walk him during the day while we’re at work. Being able to afford a dog walker certainly is a privilege, as is having a white-collar, professional corporate office job that requires us to be at work from 8 am to 5 pm Monday through Friday, in which a prerequisite is an esteemed college education. So sometimes, loving on my dog feels like the whitest of privileges (especially when I talk to him in my squeaky, obnoxious dog-mom voice).

But on the other hand, what is more pure and natural than to love an animal given to the world by God or whatever higher power exists? Loving animals costs nothing.

Also, let me add that despite B’s beauty, he is a rescue dog. He was surrendered to a kill-shelter in Georgia because the owners “did not have room” for him anymore. I put that in quotes because he was infested with fleas and is jumpy, defensive, and fearful to this day, which to me implies abuse. Read more about B’s adoption in my previous post. All this is to say that he is a not a designer dog, and we did not pay hundreds or thousands to adopt him.

As you can see, the guilt over my privilege bleeds into every aspect of my life (not a bid for pity). But in conclusion, I’m not sure the answer to my question matters. Is what matters that we openly question what privileges in our lives extend to all races or don’t? It’s not enough to successfully eliminate personal and systemic racism, but maybe it’s a good place to start.