We were on our way back to our friends Jeff and Joan’s house in Alexandria,
Virginia, after a rousing celebration of our anniversary at Geranio, an Italian restaurant in Old Town. Pulling into their driveway, we could see Toby, their Bichon, waiting in the bay window of the living room. “Aww,” Jeff said, “look how excited he is to see us.” From his tone, proud and reverent, he might have been watching his first baby roll over for the first time. I knew exactly what he was thinking: Isn’t he the cutest dog you’ve ever seen?
The next night, New Year’s Eve, we were at a wedding in Bethesda — the son of good friends from college. Of course, we saw a lot of people we hadn’t seen forever, who, of course, whipped out photos of their beautiful and
accomplished children. And their precious and adorable dogs. Our tablemates Pam and Tony showed us not only the typical array of photos of Boo, their Cavalier King Charles, but additionally, ones
detailing his recent sad bout with Alopecia. “Isn’t he the cutest dog you’ve ever seen?” Pam said.
Not to be outdone, I countered with a photo of Ricky taken just days before, on Christmas morning. “Second cutest,” I answered. (It should be noted that the most recent pictures I had of Matt, Greg, or Robby were from Robby’s HS graduation last June.)
Strangely, the only one at the table who seemed to be able to contain himself about his pet was our old Penn friend Jerry. I didn’t want him to feel left out. “How’s Sammy?” I asked.
“He’s fine,” Jerry answered, “if you have to have a dog.”
Oh so that’s what was happening at your table. I should have brought a picture of 14-year-old standard poodle Tobee with her white New Years Eve bows on her ears. She would have loved the party!