New Dog in Town

I really, truly hoped to follow the life advice of a bumper sticker I saw several years ago: "Life begins when the kids move away and the dog dies."

I really, really like dogs, but I like the idea of simplifying life even more. My plan was largely in place. The Ds moved away, and Honey, our aging Labrador was nearing 15. Molly, the comical Basset Hound, sadly died of pancreatic cancer. Our granddog Madeleine, the spoiled King Charles Cavalier Spaniel, spent part of the week here, and I thought that would satisfy Wifey's dog needs...

I made it very clear, and I was serious, that I wanted no more dogs. And --story of my life, I was manipulated by females, once again...

Apparently, last Saturday, D2's friends Spencer and Amanda, nearly ran over a small brown dog which was running on 136 Street near US 1. They stopped the car, opened the door, and the dog hopped inside. They drove around, looking for an anguished owner, and saw no one.

The dog, which the two former high school newspaper writers named Brown Dog (I love simple, descriptive adjectives myself) came home with Amanda, and spent the night. Amanda's folks, however, already have a dog and other pet infested house, so Brown Dog was shipped to Spencer's house, another dog infested abode.

Spencer's mom Susan took the dog to the vet, who told her there was no doggy GPS chip, but the dog was about 2 and in excellent health. In fact, she was overweight.

Susan posted "Found Dog" signs, but received no response. So --here came the Dave manipulation. Last Wednesday, Susan and her nice husband Steve showed up at my house with the dog. D1, on a rare midweek appearance, also showed up, the better to hug the dog and look up at me with her doe eyes (both D1 AND the dog).

There was vague talk of our "fostering" the dog until a proper home could be found. I actually bought into this, and called Dr. Barry, whose family LLasa Aapso died, leaving his boys Scott and Josh dog-less. No, Barry said --no dogs for now, pending Josh's promised improvements at school...

So, not surprisingly, my pack has grown. Wifey and D1 named the dog Vienna, since she resembles a Vienna sausage. And the truth is, the dog is very sweet and non invasive.

She's perfectly housebroken (unlike the spoiled Cavalier) and seems to enjoy sharing my family's favorite past time --laying around a lot.

Also, she's comical when we walk --she keeps up on her short, little legs, with a, um, dogged determination.

I will continue to call her Brown Dog, even though Wifey, a master at personification, claims that "confuses" her as she attempts to learn her new name.

After I took Midnight, our first marital dog, to the doggie Dr. Kevorkian, I told Wifey SHE would have to do it with Alfred, our cocker spaniel. Ha. As if. When Alfred's time came, somehow I had the awful task as well.

When Molly curled up and died, literally, outside our family room door, I also was the angel of dog death.

This is a big reason I don't want to deal with dogs. Somehow I get stuck with the sad stuff...

Whatever. I guess Brown Dog will be around for awhile.

D2 pines for a Corgy, and Brown Dog sort of has the same body type. Maybe Brown Dog can become hers this summer...