Our dogs are rotten.

OK, OK, they are not that bad. They enjoy people, which is good, although they can get a bit too affectionate.

They like birds, lizards and roaches, which is also good unless you are in charge of cleanup! They can do most things other dogs do and are responsive to many commands. They can walk on leash, sit, stay and lie down. The boy can shake hands and play fetch while the girl can stand on her hind legs and walk around the room. Mostly though, the two behave like, well, animals.

They chase each other around the house sliding around corners, crashing into furniture and ramming into doorways. They love to wrestle and bark and growl and will provoke each other until a full-on melee erupts. They play so hard and raise such a ruckus you can't even hear yourself think much less watch TV or read a book.

Of course all that play builds up quite a thirst, so they head to the kitchen, belly up to the water bowl and drool their way back to their pillows for some much-needed rest. Sometimes they will forgo the long walk to the kitchen and head straight for the toilet for a quick drink.

Yes, they are animals all right.

Still, when you love someone, whether animal or human, you learn to overlook his or her flaws, or so I thought.

A few weeks ago, our youngest dog got sick and had to be hospitalized. Her abdomen was tender to the touch and she refused to eat or drink. More telling, she stopped playing. By the time she was admitted, she had lost several pounds and was severely dehydrated. Thankfully, she made it through and returned home several days later.

Her hospitalization was hard on the family, but having her home was just as difficult. At least when she was in the hospital the silence in the house was understandable. She was gone. Watching her at home lying on her pillow, tired and listless, was bizarre. She was like a ghost or shadow; present, but just barely.

I suspect that we each said our own secret prayers for her return to the land of the living. I caught myself whimsically reminiscing on several occasions. Each time my "daydream" was the same: I saw her running through the house raising a ruckus.

It is funny that the one thing I wished for more than anything else was some good old-fashioned property damage. Two weeks into her convalescence, I got my wish.

Slowly but surely her health improved. First, her appetite returned. Then she started joining the family in the living room, forgoing the safety and comfort of her pillow. Soon she was following us around the house wagging her tail along they way. Then one day a fracas erupted and my family and I watched in silent wonder. First, she nipped at our other dog's heel. Then she took his toy. Finally, she launched at him with all her might and grabbed him by the ear. He whirled around and the battle was joined. She was back!

Yes, our dogs are animals and I would not have them any other way. In fact, their rambunctious behavior is what I love best about them.

I thought love overlooked one's flaws, but I was wrong. True love recognizes that our flaws and vulnerabilities are what make us human — or in this case — canine.

Michael C. DeMattos is a member of the faculty at the University of Hawai'i's school of social work. Born and raised on the Wai'anae Coast, he now lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter, two dogs, two mice and 1,000 worms.