By MARY BETH MAASSENMy husband and I have three dogs. I have written about our dogs before. They are all boys, about 70 pounds each, and they think they are human beings. I don’t know where they got that idea. Actually, I do. From me. My bad.
Right now I refer to them as our dogs. When they are funny and sweet and obedient they are my dogs, and when they are wreaking havoc they are his dogs. As in, “your dogs got out” or “your dogs tracked mud all over the house” or “your dogs left you a gift on the carpet.” They are usually his dogs. This is because even though I try to treat them as responsible decision-making adults they continue to behave like ill-mannered toddlers, even trying to climb in my lap.
As they age (two of them are over twelve years old), in many respects they still act like puppies. Not in that cute, roly-poly playful way, but in that eat your favorite book, shred all the toilet paper, chew up your shoes, and ravage anything left on the counter, kind of way. Also, they are all quite needy and stay underfoot most of the time. They like to wedge themselves between me and the sink, me and the stove, me and my husband, yep, it’s awkward at times. It can be exhausting. Sound like a discipline issue, right? Darn.
For several years my husband and I chatted about all the things we would do when the dogs go off to college but they seem to have found the fountain of youth and are still going unexpectedly strong. Our conversations have changed. It looks like we may have miscalculated, and we are going to miss an entire phase of our life. We no longer talk about what we are going to do when the dogs go off to college but we discuss how we can keep them together as a family when it comes time for us to be wheeled into Sombrillo. They will outlive us.
Not quite ready to give up on our retirement plans altogether, we reached out to our children, all responsible grown adults with jobs and homes with yards, and we explained our dilemma. We were hoping one of them would step up to the plate so we could take an extended vacation. The response was varied but pretty much, “You wanted these dogs, so you have to take care them. They are your responsibility.”
Echoes of my own voice came back to me. I had given my children the same speech about dogs, hamsters, lizards, iguanas, and gerbils, many, many years ago. I wanted to protest with a “but all my friends are traveling and I never get to go anywhere…” but I knew it would not do me any good. I would just come across as whiney and spoiled. I am fully aware I have a slight tendency toward whiney and spoiled and I did not need a lecture from them … time, once again, to re-prioritize.
Did I mention our dogs are adorable? And funny? And goofy? And at times remarkably clever? And sometimes they make weird mumbling sounds like they are talking to each other? One of my boys will actually roll-over for leaf of iceberg lettuce. How cute is that?
Now I am diligently working at re-training my pups and myself. I want to re-establish those good habits they had once-upon-a-brief-time. And it is time for me to re-establish some good habits I had, once upon-a-brief-time. A little discipline can go a long way, and luckily, I have a little.
