Go dog go

My husband has decided he wants a mastiff puppy. In honor of that, let me tell you a little story about 9 animals and a couple who have no business having pets.

First there came Chip. Named after the chipmunk he resembled as a kitten, scampering along with more of a hop than a gait. He was the perfect cat. He was eaten by my parent's dogs.

Next came Bear. Bear was rescued from the side of the road by newlywed John and Laura. He was being sold by a man who clearly did not care for his animals and our hearts couldn't help but save her...and her worms...and her mange. She tore holes in the carpet and pooped on the floor. We gave her away.

Meet Bo and Nilla. Rescued, not from the road, but the front of the mall. Bo had the dark nose and sandy coat associated with the Siamese and Nilla the cream and white that drove vanilla as her name. They were wonderful cats, gentle and just playful enough. You would find them laying in the sun all day and bounding back and forth through the night. I loved Nilla and the way she would paw at my face. The softness of her coat and the roughness of her tongue on my hand, telling me she wanted to be pet. Then overnight they turned. They began going to the bathroom everywhere. The vet gave them clean health and we couldn't keep fighting them out of the crib and off every baby thing we had. Changing sheets that he been gone on or clothes or blankets left out. John took them away.

Enter Bonnie and Clyde, shortly after we were robbed. The idea was outside pets, sure to work better with our personalities and scare away children with visions of stolen electronics in their head. A win-win. A Great Pyrenees mix, they were loyal and had each other as running companions out back. When still puppies, Bonnie slipped free of my grasp and was hit by a car, fortunately only breaking her leg. Even though it healed, she always retained that limp. A living memory of how much vet's charge to set a leg. Clyde would greet you with a jump. At 100 pounds a piece, not only were they hefty but when standing on their hind legs with their paws on my shoulders, Clyders was as tall as me. One day we came home to our fence having been beaten in. Bonnie was gone but Clyders was running around near. Clyders made it to our new house but soon after, he died.

Jake. We saw him downtown and adopted him because our hearts are apparently not connected to our minds. He was a jumper. We took him back in a week.

Salty. After Bonnie was gone, we thought that Clyde needed a friend. We found another Pyrenees mix at the pound; a puppy. They didn't get along as famously as we had hoped, both fighting for attention, no matter how much love they got. Clyde died and then Salty started to run away. After fixing every hole and space, we didn't know how he got out. He went to live on farm. A real farm. Not the one that is code for "he died".

And then there was Aria. Never was there an animal I wanted to love more as she was the dearest of gifts. But unfortunately, she was also annoying as crap. She was around my head all the time. In your face. Making noise. Not happy in small spaces. Not happy in big spaces. She went to live with a cousin.

My sweet John. We love the idea of pets. I know you think you want one. The dog running by you in the back yard playing fetch. Sleeping at the end of your bed. But think about the dog going to the bathroom in the kitchen. Scratching the hard wood floor. Eating his weight in dog food. That weight being 160lbs. We are bad pet owners, John. Bad. I didn't even include the fish that we killed and all the plants that have died. We are lucky our children instinctively gravitate towards food or they may never be fed. If you love the mastiff, don't bring him home, let him be free. Free from 40 hours alone at home each week. Free from owners who have gone through as many pets as years they've been married. Owners whose only successful pet is one who needs nothing, eats nothing and warrants none of their attention. Remember the past John. Remember it and let the dream go.

Mastiff puppies. Run.