My son is a dog person. My wife? A dog person.
Me? Not a dog person.
I don’t like the way they smell. I don’t like being licked. And I still can’t figure out why we think cats are the smart ones when it’s dogs that have convinced us to pick up after them.
Growing up, I never really had pets. Never had many positive interactions with animals, really. A goldfish. Fed a stray cat or two. Some Sea-Monkeys.
No dogs.
Still, I live in a house of dog lovers. My wife grew up with dogs and my son’s granny has had dogs for his entire life. And my son is now nearly eleven years old and can take care of a dog and our new home is next to a field and he did give me a very eloquent speech a couple of weeks ago while his mother traveled for business about how, considering my advanced age, he was unlikely to get a little brother and so a dog would at least give him someone to play with…
And I had promised to ponder this idea.
So ponder I did, researching a number of breeds and taking into account a variety of factors such as size, temperament, activity level, intelligence, cost of upkeep, and the like.
Naturally, this took days. By then, my wife had returned from her long trip. My wife, it must be said, is not a great ponderer of ideas. She is more a “get it done” kind of person. She’d also apparently done some cursory internet research herself.
We had a conversation that went something like this:
“So you’d be okay with us getting a dog? Because I know you don’t really like them.”
“I guess. I mean, I think so. It would be good for him. A big decision, though.”
“I agree.”
“And he really isn’t getting a little brother. So… “
“Right.”
“I mean especially now that we have space for the dog to actually be able to get out. Sure, the backyard is mostly concrete, but there is a park right next door. So, like I said, considering everything else, if we’re getting a dog, I think a Labrador Retriever probably makes the most sense.”
“Cool. We’re getting a Labrador Retriever. When?”
“When? Well, we could probably get one any time in the next few weeks, though we should probably plan for a long search to find just the right one.”
“Uh-huh. What color?” she says, as she scans the room for her car keys.
“Well, they basically come in black, chocolate, and tan. Kinda like couches, if you think about it! Those are couch colors. They go with everything. You never have to worry about matching the coffee table if you have a couch in one of those colors, ya know?”
A tight smile.
“Let’s get a black one,” she says.
“Okay. A black one would be cool, I guess.”
She says she should probably take the boy to PetSmart to look at what they have on offer. Kind of “browse” their puppy selection — while recognizing that they probably won’t have the right one.
When she hadn’t returned two hours later, I knew what was happening. Then she started texting me. And sending me pictures. Apparently, a PetSmart adoption requires the approval of both parents.
They came home with Shadow Robinson an hour later, my boy grinning from ear-to-ear. He’s a ten-week-old black Lab that likes to lick things and he’s smelly and has to be cleaned up after and walked near constantly. And my wife loves him and my boy loves him and I like him a good bit.
We’ll be all right.
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This post was previously published on Noteworthy – The Journal Blog and is republished here with permission from the author.
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Photo credit: Chris L. Robinson