|
|
|
The Dog We Were Meant to Have |
| Written by William Quam | |
| Wednesday, 20 February 2008 | |
|
Share it:      The Dog We Were Meant To Have
Cheryl and I sat anxiously on the couch in the home of Kelly's foster mom, Beverly. Miss Beverly had gone out back to get Kelly, our "rescue dog." As the door opened, a scruffy, blonde mutt raced toward me at a full gallop. I sat in stunned amazement as Kelly used the coffee table as a springboard and launched into a perfect flying head butt against the bridge of my nose. It was an entrance that any professional wrestler would have been proud of. As I lay dazed and holding my nose, young Kelly stood on my chest and licked my face and nostrils with a ferocity that left me gasping for air. Cheryl didn't know whether to laugh or ask Beverly to send in candidate number two. Was this really the dog we were meant to have?
Cheryl and I spent the two hour drive to Charleston trying to control this shaggy dynamo. It took Kelly all of ten minutes to chew through his seat belt, harness and his leash. He raced around the van like Robert Downey Jr. looking for a syringe. I almost drove off the interstate twice. During my stern lecture at a rest stop, he lifted his leg and peed on my foot. Cheryl turned to me with an exhausted look and exclaimed, "Oh my god, you've chosen a dog with ADHD!!"
After trying Ritalin, valium and rum-soaked doggy treats, our last resort was to enroll Kelly in obedience school. There were twelve dogs in the class. On the first night, each dog owner was asked to stand up and tell the group why their dog needed obedience school. It was kind of like the scene from the movie "Stripes" when each of the recruits told the tale of why they enlisted in the army.
"Hi, I'm Bill and this is my wife Cheryl. Our dog's name is Kelly. He's a terrier mix. It's hard to pinpoint just one reason why Kelly is here tonight. Along with not obeying commands in general, slobbering on our house guests, peeing on my foot and chewing on everything we own, he also eats poop out of the cat's litter box. But, the kid's got loads of personality!"
With that said, I made up my mind that Kelly was at this school to win. We would graduate first in class and possibly grab a grant or scholarship to an advanced obedience school or even an IAMS commercial. By the end of the first night, Cheryl and I had sized up the competition for "Team Kelly." The dog to beat was Chloe, a welsh corgi owned by the mother-daughter team of Mindy and Melissa. Mindy reeked of facials, gourmet cooking classes, weekly mahjongg with the ladies and a perfect second serve. Thirteen year old Melissa had a pony-tail, perfectly straight teeth and was probably the leader of the cool girls at her private school. Just the kind of girl who wouldn't give me the time of day back in junior high school. Chloe wore a pink bow and didn't have a hair out of place. Boy, were they ever gonna' get it!!!
Kelly's first mistake was choosing Barney the Beagle as his buddy. According to his owner, Barney had a notoriously weak bladder and couldn't heel if his life depended on it. In other words, Barney wasn't going very far in life. Cheryl and I had to keep reminding Kelly that classmates like Barney would only drag him down. Kelly's biggest problem was that Chloe was good. Damn Good!! In fact, every time the instructor wanted to demonstrate a new command, she would call on Chloe. Chloe was as cool as an ice cube. Mindy and Melissa knew what they had and were so smug about it. It was junior high all over again!
By the time graduation night rolled around, our dreams of Kelly as valedictorian had faded. We were happy to learn that our $80 entry fee check had cleared, thus insuring that Kelly would get a diploma. But as the big night unfolded, Kelly performed like a dream. He nailed every command. Kelly was canine perfection. It was his night. He was a contender! Cheryl and I were witnessing one of the great comeback stories of our time!! Head of the class was in reach!!! And then came Kelly's Achilles' heel, the "long distance come" command. After every dog in the class performed the command, it was Kelly's turn. As Cheryl and I called, Kelly came half way across the courtyard and then darted for the instructor's bag of dog treats. It took three of us to chase him down. The class howled with laughter. Our dream was over.
After class, Cheryl and I drowned our sorrows with a couple of triple scoops at the Baskin-Robbins. We watched as Kelly licked the faces of two toddlers, bringing laughter to their parents. Kelly turned and looked warmly at us with his big brown eyes and scruffy blonde hair. He may have graduated last in his class of 12, but he'll always be the dog we were meant to have. Copyright 2008 William Quam |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
via Email
