Dog Tails

            I was talking with my brother the other day on my way home from work. With his wife out of town and both daughters off on their own, he had planned to come over for dinner.

            But then the dog walker called.

            “She said Tyson is very upset,” my brother explained.  “I have to get home right away.”

            “Right away? Really?”  

            “You know how it is,” he went on, a little embarrassed. “When the kids were home, the dogs were just dogs.  But now, well they’re the kids.”

            I was tempted to tease him about Tyson’s separation issues, but I didn’t. After all, he had a point.

            Scout, for instance, was just a dog.  A mutt we adopted when my son was young, Scout would fling himself against the front door in a barking frenzy whenever anyone dared to ring our bell.  To say he was difficult would be an understatement. So when Scout was diagnosed with cancer, I was honestly a little relieved.  But just a few weeks after he died, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Which meant that we ended up getting Shadow, a sweet Golden Retriever who lived happily with us until my son was a junior in college. And then, Shadow, too, passed on.

            Well, you know the joke … Freedom is when the kids go off to college and the dog dies. And I was determined to enjoy my freedom, regardless of how much my husband wanted another dog.

            And yet, now we have another dog.

            Casey is the Cocker Spaniel my son took home from a shelter.  Unfortunately, it turned out that Casey is afraid of everything except his shadow.  (This would include elevators, bicycles, trucks, wheelchairs, baby carriages and loud noises.)  The vet prescribed Prozac, and suddenly I heard myself suggesting a week in the suburbs instead. That week became the summer. And the rest is history.

            We never let our old dogs climb on the furniture, but Casey is invited everywhere. We think it’s funny when he eats the bagels or gets into the babka. He’s a surprisingly good foot warmer, and when he snuggles up with you on the couch, you find your blood pressure dropping a few points or more. When Casey pees on the floor, my husband and I look at each other in concern and wonder if the poor pup could have diabetes.

            I really never expected to be doting on a four-legged child. But actually, I think my brother got it all wrong. Casey’s not a dog.  He’s our grand-dog.