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PUPPIES JUST WANT
TO HAVE FUN
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For some inexplicable
reason, my wife is in a hurry to become a Grandmother. I could easily wait
30 or 40 years, but she is ready right now.
So when our 20
year old son called from college and asked if he and his girlfriend could
adopt a little German Shepherd puppy, I figured having a Granddog might ease
the pressure on the other kids to produce.
So I said yes,
as long as it was clear that the puppy was his dog, not ours. Besides, we
already had two little pugs, Rocko and Lucy, and Rocko was dying of cancer.
We looked forward to having a Granddog that we could love with no
responsibility.
When the
Winter Break began a couple of weeks ago, our son bounded through the door,
followed by our new Granddog, Obie. We pushed our son out of the way and put
our arms out for Obie to meet his new grandparents. Tail wagging furiously,
he bounded our way.
"Don’t
get him too excited," cried our son. "He’s housebroken, but…."
Too late.
Apparently, Obie can’t handle too much excitement, at least not yet. As I
held him in my arms, he peed all over my shoes.
"He
really is housebroken," explained our son. "He just dribbles when
he meets new people."
Dribble?
Spoken like a true Helicopter Parent, which he was quickly becoming.
Meanwhile, Obie spotted Lucy and Rocko, who were trying to look
inconspicuous.
Our new
Granddog bounded over to both of them, ready to play. They looked at him
with pure disgust. Both over 10 years old, and one in very poor health,
having a puppy in the house was not what they had in mind.
Obie didn’t
care. He was only a few months old but he was already three times their
size, and his paws were about the size of their heads. He pounced on both of
them, and they weren’t happy about it.
Pugs are very
mellow dogs. I had never seen them snap at anyone or anything. Until now.
They made noises that sounded like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. They scared
me, but Obie was oblivious. He kept pouncing, ready to play.
"I’VE
GOT CANCER, MAN!!!" was what Rocko really wanted to say. "LEAVE ME
ALONE!!"
Obie didn’t
care. It was non-stop. My son would pull Obie off, and he’d be back at it
within minutes. He was insatiable. Lucy and Rocko’s Golden Years, and
Rocko’s last days, were not what they had in mind.
Sure enough,
by the fourth day, Rocko took a serious turn for the worse. He had been
diagnosed with thyroid cancer in June and given two months to live. He had
held on far longer than anyone expected. But that was before Obie arrived.
In Rocko’s mind, it was clearly time for one of them to go.
I tried to
explain to Rocko that Obie would be going back to school in a couple of
weeks, but he wouldn’t listen. Maybe it’s because while I was talking
Obie had both paws smothering Rocko’s ears and he was gnawing at his neck.
Whatever the reason, Rocko seemed to have decided if cancer was going to get
him, it might as well be now.
Lucy fared a
little better. She found hiding places in the house I didn’t even know
existed. Obie always found her eventually, but at least she had a few hours
of peace.
Not Rocko. He
didn’t have the energy to escape the Monster Dog. That’s the way it goes
in the wild---only the strong survive. As the cancer spread throughout his
body, and Rocko laid in his bed and watched as Obie bounded his way from
across the room for another playdate, I could almost hear Rocko saying,
"Please, take me now."
We
waited as long as we could, but the day finally came last week. Needless to
say, it wasn’t easy. Tears were shed, but I couldn’t help thinking that
as the gallant and studly Rocko got his final injection, he had one eye on
the door, expecting Obie to come bounding through at any moment.
And then,
finally, he had peace.
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