So about twenty months ago our
family dog, a big, extremely lovable golden retriever passed away –
unfortunately it was time. When he
passed, I was thinking, now I have an opportunity to de-stress and
de-complicate my life. My wife had other
plans. Over the following months she
would show me various pictures of dogs available for adoption, puppies from
breeders. The running joke in our house
became: if there was a cute picture of say, a rhinoceros - we’d need one of
those. I valiantly fought them all
off. I’d latch onto: Murphy just passed,
and we already have two very senior cats, it wouldn’t be fair to them. It was an impenetrable defense. In late spring, I’m with my wife at a work
related couples dinner. Two coworkers
and their spouses tell my wife that she definitely should get another dog - I’m
incredulous. I’m thinking, what would
possess someone to say something like that?
And why is there not an air horn available when you need it, or a Taser gun? Then, on Father’s Day… Father’s Day!, my wife
shows me an online picture of a Flat-Coat Retriever puppy. The hard sell is on. “Incoming!!!”
I go into defense mode. The deflector
shields are raised. A battle for home
dominance and my sanity ensues.
It’s not that I dislike dogs. I love dogs, as long as someone else has
responsibility for them. And if those
same people wouldn’t mind getting up at 5:00AM to let them out, feed them, play
with them (especially when you’re exhausted); and take them at no charge when
you want to be spontaneous and go on vacation, then and only then I have no
problem with the concept. Oh wait, Vet Bills
– if someone else can pay the vet bills that would be good too. I’ve spent exponentially more on vet bills
over the years than on both of my kid’s medical. Just the notion of needing a medical
insurance policy for my dog galls me.
When you look up the phrase: Old School, my picture is there, but really,
do I need an insurance policy for my dog?
And special food – think expensive food that is prescribed by the
vet? Come on, they’re dogs! What’s happening in this world? I can’t imagine that back in the Stone Age
when man and dog first connected that Mr. Cro-Mag was going to the medicine man
and paying a ridiculous amount in beads and flint for specially prepared
mammoth.
Bottom line, after a horrific
battle, where many words were spoken that cannot be taken back (like yes, we
can get the dog), I lost power and my shields went down. Now I’m with my wife, sick to my stomach, driving
to deep-south Jersey for an insanely expensive puppy. (Hopefully my wife is not reading this.) We get to the breeder’s house and there are
five adult Flat-Coat Retrievers and about nine or ten puppies completely out of
control. The adults keep trying to jump
up and put their paws on your shoulders.
My spider senses were tingling. No,
they were more like screaming, “Danger, Danger, Run Away!”
The dogs were actually very
friendly, but had way too much energy. My
wife and the breeder go into another room to sign the mortgage papers to
acquire the little prince. Now I’m alone
with about fifteen dogs in a small room.
I was very surprise they didn’t tear me apart because the sense of dread
I was giving off was palpable. So after
the papers had been signed and I was pretty sure I could postpone my retirement
for a few more years, the breeder walks us to our car. He starts telling us about the Flat-Coat
breed. (For those not familiar, imagine a pitch-black
golden retriever.) Their heritage is of a hunting and fishing dog dating back
to 18th century Europe. As I
grasp for straws I’m thinking, well that’s pretty cool. Not sure why I felt that way. I don’t hunt and the fishing part, what would
the dog do - jump in the water and drag the bass in before it jumps off the
hook? The breeder also says they’re not
as bulky as a golden retriever, more like a sleek athletic race horse and very
agile. Supposedly they do great in
agility competitions. Okay, so I’m appreciating
the positive comments. Then just as
we’re about to drive away, he says, “Oh and I recommend you get health
insurance. Flat-Coats will eat just
about anything that isn’t bolted down.
You’ll go through the cost of the premium in the first three months of
ownership.” And to that point, I now own
what was previously a great pair of shoes.
We get home and I go online and
start reading about the Flat-Coat Retriever.
They are known as the “Peter Pan of Dogs.” Why? - Because they never
grow up. (This is what I signed up for –
a hairy child with boundless energy who eats clothing and furniture, coupled
with high vet bills.)
But he also has a very innocent
face with soulful eyes that suck you in.
As a young puppy in his excitement licking our faces, the licking would
turn into nibbling, which if not caught in time turned into a bite-one kid to the ER. Some of his other endearing qualities: he’ll
stumble, fall off, and eventually jump up onto the couch. (So much for the
agility blue ribbon.) Then he’ll pin you
to the back cushion, licking your face to the point where you almost can’t
breathe (ten months old now and weighs sixty pounds). As you’re gasping for air and wiping slobber
from your face, he’ll nonchalantly move over to the food or beverage you have
sitting on the table next to you. Also,
he does not know how to drink water without bringing half the bowl back onto
the kitchen floor. I know, everyone says
dogs slobber, but the amount of water he brings back would scare Noah. It’s almost as if he’s holding it in his
mouth and spitting it out as he walks along.
Best of all, when he sees you mopping up after him, he goes back to the
bowl for more.
My wife named him Charlie, after my
grandfather – I’m not above being sucked up to.
On the positive side, he has not eaten the cats. He plays well and at a dog park he loves to
be chased by the pack. Lucky for him, he’s
like a bolt of lightning in an open field, and can turn on a dime. I liken his clumsiness around the house to
The Sundance Kid in the 1969 Western. At
one point Butch and Sundance are trying to get jobs as guards and their
potential employer asks Sundance to shoot some cans off a fence post. Standing still he can’t hit any of the
cans. The employer is very
disappointed. Sundance asks if he can
move while he shoots, and then goes into acrobatics hitting every can in site.
So I’m back into the Good, Bad, and
Ugly of dog ownership. On occasion when
something bombastic happens with Charlie, I’ll send an email out to the coworkers
who helped get me into this spot. I ask
them when they plan on coming by to pick up their dog – nobody has shown up
yet.
