Here’s what I do for Ricky.
I buy his food, his treats . . . whatever it is he needs. I take him for a good long walk, every day; neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of nights keeps us from our appointed rounds. I feed him. I give him his pills — such a daunting array that I have to depend on a cheat sheet — five times a day, always right on time. When he barks, “Play fetch!”, I ask, “For how long?” I take pains to correct his behavior when he does something wrong. I bring him to the vet for all his regular visits and shots, and I take him to the animal hospital for his emergencies. (With an epileptic beagle, he has more than his fair share.) I carry him to his bed at night. I pick up his poop. I make sure I take him with me any time I go anywhere in the car, and let him ride shotgun — since I know the front seat of the car is his absolute favorite place to be. And when he was a tiny little puppy — all floppity ears and paws (please see photo, right) — and he wasn’t used to his new home in Westport, CT and seemed to be missing his mom and his old home in Templeton, MA, I slept on the floor next to his crate for the first three nights.
Here’s what my son Robby does for Ricky.
He kisses him when he leaves for school in the morning, and kisses him when he comes back home. He kisses him when he wakes up, and kisses him when he goes to sleep. He encourages Ricky to spend the night on his bed, all snug and comfy on the pillow next to Robby’s head. He slips him food at regular intervals, and lets Ricky do whatever the heck he pleases — with never even a hint of reprimand. If Ricky has a need that requires anything more than a kiss or a treat or a pat on the head — say a walk, or being taken outside for a pit stop — Robby simply calls me.
Now picture Robby and me coming home after, oh, let’s say a weekend college visit. Here’s how Ricky greets Robby. (Please see photo, left.) Me, he pretty much ignores.
It’s a dog’s dad’s life.
Omg, which one is cuter???!!!
They both have their days . . .
I know the feeling.As a “dad” of a beagle/Jack Russell mix,my ‘daughter’ is mostly a “mommy’s girl”.She will mostly stick to mommy’s side-except at dinner time.Then she comes to sit near “daddy” and give him the sad-eyed ‘I’m hungry’ look.
Exactly! When Robby gloats about how much Ricky loves him, I always say, “But who does Ricky come to when he’s in trouble?” When he really needs something, he comes to me.
Ps, I thought that was Greg in the picture!
That’s why I have to label all the photos in my house!
Wow, with all this kvetching I’d get the impression that you’d just as soon not have a dog! Well, you secret’s safe with me: there is no way you would ever give up Ricky, even if your duties were twice as onerous. Even with journalistic license, loved the story.
As you know, hyperbole is my middle name. Thanks for the comment!