I find myself talking to our dogs more than humans most days. I’m not sure if this is normal behavior or not. Nor do I exactly care. Truth is, with the exception of my family and a few friends, I prefer conversation with the pups to people. The pups actually pretend to be listening, cocking their heads and looking at me intently as I babble away. People, not so much.
We have two, sometimes three pups, depending on if granddog Teddy is visiting, which he does about half the time. Teddy, a year old, is half Havanese, half Maltese — a Havamalt. He is seriously smart, a problem-solving pup. He adores his older brother Gatsby, a three-year-old rescue cavapoo with a truly gentle soul. Mollie the Maltese, nearly five and the acknowledged queen of the house is usually perched along the top of the couch, watching with disdain.
Gatsby and Teddy wrestle several times daily, using their paws to pin each other down. Their preferred wrestling schedule commences when we sit down on the couch to eat dinner while watching television. My wife sits at one end, me at the other, Gatsby and Teddy wrestling, tumbling, grunting and pinning each other.
We had a birthday party for Gatsby recently. We didn’t invite any guest dogs, figuring three dogs, two cats, and the humans present made for a sufficient crowd. My wife got pupcakes for the pooches and a real cake for us, suitably decorated but only for human consumption. Dogs can’t stomach chocolate. My wife, daughter Abbie, and I put three candles on the cake and sang Happy Birthday while I held a vaguely alarmed Gatsby, who was unsure of what all the fuss was about. I subbed for Gatsby when it was time to blow out the candles, not wanting dog slobber on the cake.
I know. This all sounds rather silly. But Gatsby and the other two pups were happy to split a pupcake. I rarely turn down an opportunity to eat a moist chocolate cake with cream frosting. And all three pups got new toys to gnaw upon, often so loudly that I have to crank up the volume on the television while they are sawing away.
Neither my wife nor I can leave the house without saying goodbye to the pups. “I’ll be back in a little bit,” I announce to a trio of vaguely alarmed canines, as if they know what I am saying. The dogs all look stricken. Teddy and Mollie almost always go to the window in the spare bedroom overlooking the driveway to stare at me accusingly as I back out. Gatsby sulks under the couch.
Upon return, even if it is just 30 minutes later, it is Old Home Week here at Three Geese Farm. Dogs whine with delight, jump up on my legs, and make circles around my body.
Some of my favorite moments are late at night, my wife already retired for the evening, me sitting on the couch with Gatsby, talking to him while watching television. Our teddy-bear pooch stares at me with large brown eyes, as I tell him what a good boy he is, and how much he is loved. He smiles and rolls over for a belly rub.
Having pets has plenty of downsides, the toughest being that they leave us far too soon, no matter how well we care for them. Some folks cannot take the loss and quit investing in critters. I don’t think I will ever not have a dog. I told my peeps recently that I fully intended for a dog in my house — or likely more than one — to outlive me, that my survivors will have to decide who gets the pups and probably cats as well.
Life without pets simply isn’t as interesting, at least for us. Besides, it gives me someone to talk to.