Puppy Love
by Beverly Beckham
Dogged determination just might pay off
They won’t let me get a dog. “Absolutely not,” they chime, all of them, in unison, shaking their heads like members of a parole board.
They bring up my past dog, listing her flaws as if she had no virtues. They cite recidivism — how Molly, my big, black, beautiful, big-eyed not quite pure-bred Labrador retriever — ate tube sock after tube sock, and had more surgeries in her 13-year life than Kenny Rogers has had in his. They argue that a dog is too much trouble and too much work, will drool on their babies, bring in ticks from the outside, pollute the back yard and possibly, very possibly, harm their progeny (e.g., “A dingo ate my baby!”).
I say a dog is not a dingo; your babies drool on me; and it’s my back-yard, not yours.
But they are unanimous, two daughters, two sons-in-law and a husband, as rigid and resolved as a firing squad. “If you get a dog, Mom, don’t even think about asking me to come over and feed it,” the oldest daughter says.
“Sorry, Mimi,” her husband adds. “But I’m with Lauren on this one.”
“You cannot get a dog,” the younger daughter insists. “Charlotte is just crawling. You don’t want Charlotte crawling on a disgusting, dog-haired, dog-pawed floor, do you?”
Scott, her husband, vigorously nods.
My husband, silent until this point, smiles and with what he must believe is empathy, says, “We had Molly when we didn’t have grandchildren, honey. A dog was good for us then. But now we have all these kids,” at which point he gestures to the three who are in the family room. “What on earth do you want a dog for?”
The kids are 4, 3, and 9-months. The 4-year-old lives across the street and the other two live just two miles away. I see them almost every day. They’re here or I’m there. Life is good and full, and why do I want a dog?
Dogs are smelly and hairy and expensive and loud and they have to be trained and walked and brushed and taken to the vet. And they bark and slobber and get the car filthy and knock over things and jump on people and run away.
Molly ran away one night — well, “ran away” isn’t quite true because she was so old by then, she lumbered. And “away” was just through the woods, down the path to the football field.
The bleachers never failed to lure her. Underneath she could find popcorn and half-eaten hot-dog rolls and candy wrappers and chewed gum. Molly lived for chewed gum. There had been a home game that day. She must have smelled Juicy Fruit in the air.
It was 11 p.m. and I’d let her out not five minutes before when off she went. She scaled the fence, I thought, though God knows how. Off I went in the car to find her.
A black dog on a black night is not easy to spot. I shone a flashlight under the bleachers. No Molly. I called for her. No answer. I yelled, “Molly, want a bagel?” a tried-and-true way to get her to come. Still no Molly.
“Please, Molly,” I begged, afraid suddenly that she was lost and not on a quest for food. Afraid that she’d headed for the road and not the woods. Afraid because she was just a dog and I should have kept a better eye on her and maybe she didn’t scale the fence. Maybe I’d left the gate open.
That’s when she came waddling up to me out of the dark: Her eyes are what I saw first, a beautiful sight, Molly’s big eyes, her pink tongue, and her tail wagging.
I hugged her then, felt the weight of her, and the weight of loving her. And smelled gum on her breath.
Why do I want a dog?
Because I want this again.
Last summer I took the grandchildren, Lucy and Adam, to the animal shelter a few times, just to look at dogs I told their parents. We looked at cats, too, and rabbits and birds and gerbils and even pet rats.
I could want a pet rat, I told my family.
Sometimes I search Petfinder.com and e-mail pictures of dogs that look like Molly to my daughters.
And back come their messages, always the same. “NO DOG!”
My son and his wife have a dog and a baby and are in favor of my having a dog, too. But they live 250 miles away, too far to drive if I’m stuck in traffic and the dog needs to be walked and fed.
“I’ll feed your dog for you, Mimi,” Adam, the 3-year-old, tells me. “I’ll make him grilled cheese.”
The parole board hears this and smiles. And like most desperate-to-be-understood inmates, I think they’re coming around.
| When we lost a dog to traffic, our kids created an advertising campaign based on a song by the then very young Mary Kate and Ashley Olson: "I'm just desperate for a dog" They would march around the house singing it over and over until we relented. Thank god.
|
| Beverly,
I love your columns posted weekly.They are so true and lovely.We both are busy grandmothers and it's so funny how when your children have children,things change.I remember fondly my days with our Golden Retreiver,Magic.And,if I wanted a dog now,my children would be of zero help if I were to be out of town.Yet,I've to to more recitals,Mommy&me Classes than one can count...From your West Coast admirer,keep up your amazing writing.Diane Fond
|
| Hi Beverly, I too am a grandmother of two girls with twin girls due at any time. I have had at least one, if not more, dogs always in my life. We usually get them from a shelter. When my son, now 21 yrs old, picked out the little Shepard/mix puppy at the shelter, we named him "Duke". I loved that dog so much that when we had to put him to sleep at 16 yrs old, because he could not walk good any more, my son came with me. We were both devasted to see him go, but we stayed with him to the end. My son wanted his collar and hung it in his car. That was two years ago and even writing this I am crying thinking about how much I loved him. My husband also said no more dogs after Duke died. After 4 months of sadness, I convinced him to get another dog. We took our two granddaughters with us to the animal shelters. We wanted to get a dog gentle enough for them to play with. Well, we found a little puppy who was Black Lab/mix. We adopted her at 10 weeks old. She is now 2 yrs old and I cannot tell you how much joy she has brought into our lives. My children are all grown and out of the house, so she is like my little girl now. We named her "Ebony Rose", because she is all black. She is the sweetest and most cuddly dog I have ever owned. She has not only brought joy to my husband and myself. My children and grandchildren love her too. My youngest granddaughter, Mackenna, who is 3 yrs old, made a comment while I was watching her at my house. She said "Someone had taken her dog, Colby, away to live with them, but that is okay, because I have Ebony. She is my dog now." Mackenna loves her and Ebony loves her right back. I wish your family comes around. I cannot imagine my live without my little "Ebony Rose" in it.
|
| i hate to sound gruff, but you are an adult! and it is your house, and your husband dosn't sound completely against the idea. if you get the dog your grand kids will adore it and your daughters will have to come around.
there is something about a pet (especially a dog) that makes us all feel so unconditionally loved for so little effort. i say "GO FOR IT"!
|
| We have 2 grown children who grew up with dogs. Both are now married. My daughter, a vet tech, has 2 lab mixes, my son and his wife, she has never loved a dog, have a baby. Much to my husbands dismay, we have 3 labs and 2 cats. Christmas was a stressed time for our daughter-in-law, because we had the 5 dogs here. Our grand daughter, 7 months old, laughed, hugged and fed the dogs her cookies. Maybe someday, she will want HER own dog, and my son can have his dog again.
Dogs love you unconditionally! Go for it!
|
|
