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the storm builds: (pt. 2)

05 November 2010

There is talk and then there’s action. There’s planning and then there is execution. In hindsight, it seems so clear that MW moved silently into the planning phase as soon as she settled down to absorb “Puppy’s First Steps.”

Raising a puppy is not like riding a bike. Although I’ve only been involved with puppy rearing once (age of 11), and obviously have little experience, I’m confident stating that you forget a lot of the secrets to successfully leading a dog from uncontrolled piano stool leg gnawing to elegant sit-and-stay obedience. This is what those Tuft experts have tried to synthesize as they write to augment their university salaries. Like a pug lapping up something spilled in the kitchen, MW enthusiastically swallowed whatever the experts were saying.

What were they saying? I don’t know. I hadn’t opened the book. I hadn’t the time. I was too busy trying to figure out how to divert this “we should get a dog – we’re dog people” current.

The current was exceedingly hard to slow because Lisa has a dog called Bodie. Bodie is 18 months of high energy requiring regular exercise at the dog park I told you about in the beginning. MW and Lisa spend a lot of time together. They walk together. Dogs (whether Bodie alone or his friends at the dog park) are just a focal length away whenever they’re together

A Gateway to Dog Ownership?

Maybe it is like the argument that marijuana is a gateway drug to more dangerous substances. Statisticians who don’t like the Dave Matthews Band or San Francisco mayors argue that marijuana consumption almost inevitably leads to cocaine, meth, and Tostitos addiction. I wish they’d research possible correlations between dog park visitations and dog acquisition. I’d be amazed if there wasn’t a strong correlation (and empirical evidence) supporting my hypothesis that the “can’t turn back now” steps that lead us to acquiring a dog in January began in earnest in November.

We enjoyed amazing weather in the fall so Lisa and MW went to the dog park with increasing regularity. Several times a week, in fact. The constant company of pointers and retrievers and fellow walkers using plastic throwing devices to launch gooey tennis balls skyward was unavoidable.

Surrounded by “know your dog” books at home and dozen of purebreds and genetic mixes on her walks with Lisa, I realize now that MW was too weak to fight it, even if she had wanted to (which I’m pretty sure she probably didn’t). I’m sure mid-November was when she gave in and fully committed herself and our near future to getting a dog.

Our lives would never be the same.

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