We used to have a pit bull mix named Sidney. He was white and tan, a chihuahua-pit bull mix (picture chihuahua head, pit bull body, with a neck smaller than his chest, and ugly as sin) who probably should have been red-headed, because that dog was super fucking annoying, and everyone in the family (except me, I guess) hated him. He farted constantly, barked in an octave that was so high-pitched other dogs would howl in pain, and he barked constantly! Every time some neighbor three houses down even thought about walking near our house, Sidney started barking. A mouse farted next door, he barked. I can't even say he had a good personality - he bit the other dogs with tiny chihuahua-like jaws, and pushed them around with his 75 pound shoulders. No joke, he weighed 75 pounds, and wore a 13 inch collar. But he was our dog, and since I'm a dog person, dogs are like children - once you get them, they are family for life.
Each of the kids were assigned a pet to take care of that we called 'his' and Sidney was so unlike-able, he always was 'given' to the youngest child, since no one else wanted to take care of him. I think I was the only one who actually petted him, unless under duress.
Me: "Anyone pet Sidney recently?"
Oldest boy: "I petted him last time, it's not my turn."
Middle boy: "Make the baby do it, it's his dog!"
Youngest boy (AKA the baby at that time): "Can I have a different dog?"
Me: "Fine, all of you have to pet him now, since you can't take turns!"
All boys in unison: "But Mom, we hate that dog!"
Me: "Tough shit, pet him anyway!" I determined that a 5 minute-per-boy pet time was required.
When my honey and I got together, it didn't take me long to figure out he wasn't a "pet person." I had all these dogs (and kids) from a previous marriage, but I knew right away that these would never be "his" dogs. He was ok with the Rottweiler (a real man's dog) and the lab mix (she's just submissive and avoids him like the plague,) but he hated my pit bull mix. I couldn't really hold it against him, since no one liked that dog.
We had been together for about 5 years when my Rottie became sick, and I had to make that long drive in the middle of the night to the vets office. Multiple organ failure, the vet said, and old age, so he was put to sleep. He was 9, which is a good age for a large breed dog. A few months later, Sidney got sick, and I took him into the vet. Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. 12 weeks of chemo later, (and no comments from the peanut gallery about paying for chemo for a dog) and he was still sick, and whining constantly in pain, so I took the long drive again with Sidney to the vet's office. He was 10. I had both of them cremated and buried together, and if there is a doggy heaven, my Rottie probably hates me now for having to spend eternity with that annoying fucking dog. But anyway.
All I had left was my lab mix. I had originally gotten her for my Rottie, since he hated Sidney. I think of her more has my puppy's puppy, not mine. She was (and is) my oldest's to care for. But she won't leave my side, so I guess that makes her mine now. I knew she wouldn't live forever, and my dogs seemed to be dropping like flies, so I told the honey that I wanted another dog.
He mentioned that he didn't think we really needed another dog. I told him I needed another dog and he stipulated no small dogs. Ok then, I got a puppy, a full-blooded pit bull. I named her Rue, because I figured my honey would rue the day I got another puppy, and I was right.
Now here's my problem: For some reason, my honey doesn't like this dog, and I don't really know why. I mean, I know she's annoying, barking all the time at leaves, squirrels, the neighbors, the mailman, but at least it's a deep bark that frankly scares the shit out of people when they hear it. Ok, so she's not completely potty trained yet, but neither is our daughter, and we still love her. Ok, so the puppy tries to fight constantly with the lab mix, but it's kind of like the boys fighting constantly with each other, and we deal. See, just like kids. What? I mean, yeah, she tries to intimidate people with her barking and growling (which seriously is what her job is as a dog, right?) and gets any food left on the counter (again, normal dog behavior) but at least she doesn't bite people. Usually. Anyway, storm cloud, meet silver lining.
Last week, we're sitting in the living room watching some show about step-parents, and the dog barked at something. He mentioned that he would like to get rid of the dog. I told him we couldn't, because she's family. "She's not my family," he says. "I could get rid of her. Easily. With about 45 cents. And I already have the bullet."
"Well, of course she's your family. She's like, your step-puppy. If she could talk, she'd be calling you 'Daddy.' And you're not killing my dog."
Then I get 'the look' from him, the one that says, 'You've said something that totally blows my mind.' Strangely enough, it's the same look I got when I told him I loved him the first time, and when I told him I was pregnant. Oh, and when I told him I got another dog. This time, he says, "No."
"No, what?"
"No, I don't think so. I am not "step-dad' to a dog." There's that look again. Hmm.
"Hey, love me, love my dogs and kids, bab-eeee! Or should I say, 'Daddy?'" Well, it makes perfect sense to me.
He does need to appreciate the small things, you know, like appreciating my sense of loyalty and committment, even to a dog that annoys me. Appreciate the fact that I won't ditch a dog just because I don't like some of the things it does, like not peeing exactly where it's supposed to. Appreciate my committment that says that when I take responsibility for something, it's for life, not for convenience. Appreciate that I believe love isn't contingent on perfect behavior, only perfect intentions. Oh, and appreciate the fact that I don't have cats.
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