I’ve written before about dogs and dog love and my son’s all-consuming desire for a dog. I’ve written about our failed rescue experiment with the beautiful but wild Australian cattle dog, Scout, who is now happily chasing goats on a farm (really!), instead of chasing my poor kittys and jumping our fence to chase cars on Merrimon Avenue (above–the only time the dog was happy in his crate). I did save his life, I did! Of course, in my WCS (worst case scenario) moments, I worry that I gave the poor dog to Satan worshippers who slowly tortured him to death in unspeakable ways. Fie my vivid imagination.
Anyway, the boy still talks, constantly, about dogs. He notices every dog that crosses his path and describes them to us in detail: “Did you see that dog? He was black and white and had a brown nose and a fluffy tail. He was sooooo cute!”
E-spouse, however, is severely pet-impaired. He never had a great childhood dog. He doesn’t get pets. He likes our cats now, but that’s only because in comparison to Scout (the failed experiment) they are incredibly low maintenance. And quiet.
So whenever the “next” dog discussion comes up, E changes the subject quickly. As quickly as you would neuter a dog who was humping all the neighbor’s bitches.
Yesterday, I was driving the boy home from school yesterday and he suddenly asked: “Mom, can we get a dog when Daddy dies?”
How do you answer that question? Well, we’re going to buy a fish tomorrow.
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The striped outfit and prison-like bars are a bit of a statement for this photo. It reminds me of that photo that my parents took of me holding a number and facing to the right. It was good practice.
OK. Like eSpouse, I grew up sans pets. Never understood the attraction. Never thought the bother worth the benefit. Didn’t want The Smell or The Mess.
Enter Georgia, the Standard Poodle, who died last year. A magnificent dog.
Now I get it.
We have pined and mourned for a year, and now — just a few weeks ago — got Matisse, also a Standard Poodle.
Another magnificent dog. Mannered. Easily trained. No smell. No dander. No shedding. Just “how may I please and protect you?”
We’re thrilled. The kids are thrilled. We’re blowing money on a backyard fence so we can run and play with near-drunken abandon.
Matisse (a girl despite her name) has a sister still waiting for a home back at the breeder’s nursery. Interested?
Go here:
http://www.seabreezeplantation.com
Espouse will come around.
JA
LOVE the pic!!!
If asked that question, I’d be tempted to say - “Sure hon - soon as he’s in the ground!”
Sonny Boy did provide a preference for the next hubby after this one dies - a bachelor friend of mine from seminary who always takes me out when I’m in DC. Sonny Boy likes him a lot and refers to him as the guy mom dates.
You’re so right, mist. Actually, after we sent the dog to the farm, we kept the “crate” as a time-out spot.
Thanks, Michelle.
JA, the family across the street from us growing up had a standard. And he was sooooooo dumb. Not normal, I’m sure. But I’ve got a hangup about the breed now.
Rio, good that your kids are lining up their next Dad. I mean your spouse is a lot older than you, right?
Kids should be caged, keeps them out from underfoot…
Who does your son think he’s fooling? He should know by now that a dog is a disproportionately large exchange for a dad…maybe a gerbil when he goes, or something…
Just kidding, of course. Wishing long life to the entire Edgy Clan.
I just snapped a pic of my kids in the crate with the dogs as well!
Weird.
EM–I’m sure dumb standard poodles exist, but they are outliers. The ones I’ve known could out-smart most of the humans I know.
Present company excepted, of course.
Even the dumb ones don’t stink or shed. Gotta be worth somethin’, right?
JA
Actually, JA, I’m rather intrigued by those poodle mix breeds, like the Golden Doodle. But I have a hang-up about actually paying for a dog, when the Humane Societies are full of sweethearts needing homes.
There are rescue organizations that focus on purebreds. We got one of our miniature poodles through Carolina Poodle Rescue. My wife now volunteers for the group.
Thanks for the comments over at Le Blog. And by the way, I’m LOVING “The Shadow of the Wind.” It’s that rare and welcome book that I can’t wait to dig into every chance I get.
Too funny the “when dad dies” question. Reminds me of when one of my children asked me - out of the blue - “when daddy dies, are we going to take all the money out of his pockets before we bury him?” That was a classic. He didn’t laugh, but he was a slug. (And soon to be ex.)