TOP DOG? OR LAST DOG

Every dog I’ve had in my married life has been the top dog, starting with Lucky.

We were talking about it when the kids were small.

One of my wife’s friends heard about the talking and called to say she had one for us.

The perfect dog.

Some loser had dropped a dog off on her property, a nice dog, and we were a nice family.

She called with the happy news. I was still dug in.

 

Me: We don’t know anything about her. It’s a stray, a runaway. Who knows?

Wife: It’s a good girl. She said it was a good girl.

Me: Based on what? She doesn’t know. You don’t know. I think it’s a bad idea.

 

My wife called her friend with the bad news.

She’d found a home for it, but they returned the dog after they tied it outside all night and she barked.

I didn’t know about the return part until it was too late.

 

Friend: I found a new home for the dog.

Me: Oh, that’s too bad. She sounded like the best.

Friend: Your wife said you didn’t want her.

Me: Not true. I’d love to have one and she sounded just right.

 

After that conversation it was returned by the new owners.

 

Wife: We have a new pet.

Me: We do?

Wife: Ruth found a new home, but they didn’t keep it. After you said how disappointed you were on missing out, she’s bringing it over this afternoon.

 

After a period of getting to know each other, Lucky was a great fit in a house with two little boys.

She lasted eight years with us.

 

The Tiny One

Our next rascal was Daisy the miniature Dachshund.

Sixteen years later she exited our lives in the parking lot of the veterinarian.

Daisy was the most versatile. She was good with kids, old people, and everyone in between.

She lasted sixteen years but I call it twenty because I milked it the next four years.

 

Me: We can’t get another until I get over Daisy. She deserves that much respect.

Wife: How long do you think that will be? It’s been four years already.

Me: Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her.

Wife: I don’t see that.

Me: But you can hear me?

Wife: You don’t understand. Women my age need something to nurture.

Me: Are they married women? If not, you’ve got a husband.

 

The Promise

Wife: Well, we aren’t getting anything this year.

Me: Oh?

Wife: They had a phantom pregnancy.

So we waited. Then we found out what we’d waited for.

It wasn’t a thirty pound bundle of joy.

She was a big one 75 lbs.

Let the nurturing begin.

 

The Nurturing Best Friends

So far I’ve been nurtured on how to train, how to walk, how to wash, and how to mind.

We’ve bonded.

 

Wife: She doesn’t even know me.

Me: Yes she does.

Wife: She always wants to be with you.

Me: That makes two of you.

Wife: What?

Me: She likes you.

Wife: Not as much as you.

Me: I’m the lucky one.

Wife: Yes you are.

Me: That’s what I said.

Wife: She’s your dog.

Me: Ours.

Wife: We might need another smaller one for me.

Me: To nurture?

Wife: Yes.

Me: Have you thought of a fish?

Wife: No.

Me: A bird?

Wife: No.

Me: A snake? A lizard?

Wife: I know what I want.

Me: I’ve heard that before.

Wife: And here we are.