THE DOG BED
Are you In? Or Out?
“She’s not a dog person.”
That’s what my husband announces to anyone who is visiting, or even not visiting, our house. When we’re out on a dog walk, or even just talking about dogs, he points to me and says, “She’s not a dog person.” I scoff at this of course; we’ve had dogs during our entire marriage!
It could be that because when we were first married, I had one dog and one son, and the dog wasn’t allowed in the house. I learned this arrangement from my mother, who had terrible allergies. As kids, my brothers and I begged for a dog for years, and one Christmas we finally got one! He was the cutest German Shepherd puppy. Big ears, big feet, and all love. We named him Wolf. Wolf was a rugged, outdoor dog. He went everywhere with us—hiking, camping, fishing, riding bikes through the neighborhood. He was great protection too. Bad guys don’t like dogs. That’s still true today; dogs are great security systems.
But back then, when we had Wolf, the one thing he wasn’t allowed to do was come into the house. At least not for very long . . . I’d say he could pay a visit inside once in a blue moon. This was true even when we moved to Indiana, and that first year was the year of The Blizzard! Snow as far and deep as you could imagine, and below zero temperatures for day after day. Even then, Wolf was not allowed inside the house. So, as you can see, my belief that dogs should keep to the outdoors was deep seated.
But I finally caved, and it didn’t take long. I’d say only a few months into our newly-wedded bliss was when we adopted Korky from the pound, thinking he was a Beagle. He turned out to be part Corgi, part Bassett Hound, and we lovingly called him “the brick on toothpicks.” In a matter of months, Korky was given the kitchen. Part of my justification for no dogs in the house was the dirt and hair! I had enough to clean up without adding all of that into the mix. Nonetheless, I was guilted into allowing Korky into the kitchen, though I set up a dividing gate between the kitchen and the living room.
I caved again. I just couldn’t stand those droopy eyes staring at me from the other side of the gate. In a matter of weeks, Korky had full run of the house. And there was no going back.
As the years went by, we added Exxon, another rescue dog, picked up from the roadside no less . . . and you guessed it . . . we found him at a gas station. Exxon was a Rottweiler mix, and a beautiful orange color.
Then we saved Jo Jo. She was a full-grown Rottweiler with the usual black-and-tan coloring. We were Jo Jo’s last hope, my daughter and husband told me. She had been returned to the pound twice.
“We just have to save her,” they pleaded.
I agreed, and she was another great addition to our family. All three have since passed, and we’re left with just one rescue dog, Jade, a black and tan Coon Hound—a 17th birthday present for our daughter that didn’t make the trip to college with her.
Jade is now the kid of the house. My husband plans his weekend around when he will take Jade to run at the dog park. We buy her special food and toys. She has a special dog bed in the “fancy” living room . . . a dog bed she rarely sleeps on. She much prefers the white leather sofa. I did say she has black and tan fur, right?
So, this morning I awoke to dog feet running a race down my spine. You know when dogs sleep and dream and their legs jerk around? Well, she was running quite a race this morning!
And I guess you’ve figured it out—Jade’s favorite bed is our bed. We had upgraded to a king size bed.
I’m hoping you’ll agree that I don’t deserve the title of “Not a dog person” . . . even if I do wish I wasn’t sleeping in the dog bed!