The Inevitability of Dogs

Goodness knows I've tried.

I've been writing about food and clay and, of course...me. But long-time Linguini readers know that, sooner or later, a dog was going to come bounding into the blog and take over. 

I've had my share of doggie characters, well documented throughout this blog. There was bossy Zsa Zsa and her miraculous healing gifts, neurotic Topper, eager-to-please Hokie, hyper Gaspode, and Salt -- the canine philosopher and guerrilla pooper. 

That's five dogs -- five bundles of memories of puppyhood and training and quirkiness and love.

But also five incidents of heartache when the time came to say goodbye. 

After we lost Hokie to cancer, we were not in a position to be able to support a pet. Besides, we were caught in a whirlwind of bad luck and there was no point in dragging another innocent life in on our chaos.

Plus there was the financial consideration. Even if you can afford the cost of purchasing a dog plus the food and vet bills when they're healthy, one complicated illness could  break you. They offer insurance for that sort of thing these days. At the time, ironically, we couldn't afford our own healthcare, let alone supporting a dog.

My youngest son and his fiance have sworn off dogs completely. Joe and Caisee have discovered that, in the absence of dogs, you can go anywhere at any time. There is nothing to "let out" at night or feed in the morning. They are content with their low-maintenance cats.

I tried to embrace what Joe claimed were the perks of being canine-less. The entire side of my bed was mine to stretch out in and, when the UPS guy showed up, I could open the door like a normal person to sign for my package rather than squeezing past a flailing pack of barking maniacs.

But it was no use. You don't think you'll miss having to step over reclining canines while you're trying to cook Thanksgiving dinner for 10 -- but you do. 

Gulliver was my gift to myself when I went from two jobs and no health insurance to one full time job with benefits.

"A redhead with green eyes -- you're in trouble," his breeder quipped when I insisted Gulliver was the one.

The operative word here is "one." In a perfect world, I'd be surrounded by dogs. Right now being single-canine parents is preferable. While my husband works primarily out of the house, I'm out all day. To have more than one dog wouldn't be fair to Chuck or the kids dogs.

With only one, there is no worry over whether the love is being doled out evenly or whether one needed more discipline and wouldn't that one notice the other one wasn't getting the same sort of discipline as the other or that one got a video game for Christmas that the other might want...

Oh. Right. Dogs.

What I wasn't prepared for, though, was how naturally Gulliver trained, without a whole lot of fuss and bother. Aside from peeing on Charley's girlfriend's foot the first time we all met (he'd only been with us a week at the time), he quickly got with the whole potty training thing.

I recommend this as a litmus test for anyone considering accepting a new member into your family. Sarah was gracious about the whole incident and now she is a treasured member of the Linguini inner circle. 

Like most late-in-life children dogs, I'm much more relaxed about raising Gulliver than I was back in the day. I think that's why Gulliver is the perfect example of carefree dogdom.

I considered hauling him into obedience classes like I did with all his predecessors. But, frankly -- look at him. I can't see Gulliver doing perfect sit/stays for rally competitions or standing calmly for conformation judging.

Besides, I'm no longer a part of that world, mostly because it was no fun for either me or my dog. Every time we'd compete it was like taking one of my kids to be "evaluated" -- there was always the chance that Joe might break into his Harpo Marx impression, causing us both to laugh inappropriately and be emitted in disgrace.

This NEVER HAPPENED in my edited version of my history of being the perfect mother.

I might add that the one thing that has consistently drawn me to adopt Australian Shepherds is that, while they are loving, smart, obedient, and hard-working, they are wary of strangers. You don't normally see an Australian Shepherd* bounding up to people with gregarious enthusiasm; they're more the watch and appraise type.

I connect with this philosophy. Hold back. Who knows what they're up to. According to my plan, Gulliver and I would navigate the world, appraising those we encountered as to whether they can be trusted, knowing full well that we were better off on our own.

But remember -- I'm not the only one around here. There is Chuck.

Chuck loves being around people and his job fulfills that need. So, while I slaved away at work, Chuck turned Gulliver sociable.

No. That's an understatement. Gulliver approaches everyone with the attitude that they love him. He doesn't even consider they might not be a dog person or they might mean him harm or -- worst of all -- they might want to engage in a lengthy conversation.

And, of course -- he's quite sure everyone thinks throwing the orange ball for him is the funnest game ever!

*Many people shorten the Australian Shepherd name to "Aussies." I don't do that because "Aussie" is the shortened name for the Australian Cattle Dog -- which are actually Australian. Australian Shepherds are not. Now you know.