My wife’s mom called her up a few years ago and announced that her Bishon Frise was going to have puppies.
“Do you want one?”
A Bishon Frise is a little white poofball. If you don’t know what a Bishon looks like, it basically resembles a poodle if you were to put it in the dryer for about 5 to 10 minutes.
Call me insecure if you want, but my first thought was… I really don’t think I want to be seen walking that thing!
I had seen Bishons. They aren’t manly at all. They jump and yip. They climb on furniture like a cat. They can’t fetch a ball or wrestle with you on the floor like a real dog. I tried to convince my wife. “If we get this thing, we’re going to have all the responsibilities and expenses of an actual dog, without the joy of having one! We were going to basically have a cat in a costume!”
She didn’t budge. A woman wants what a woman wants.
I finally gave in, with the condition that I get to name him and I’m in charge of haircuts.
His name would be Jaws and he would have a purple mohawk.
A few weeks later we had a cute little puppy at our house. Bishon puppies are cute, but what puppies aren’t. Besides, I knew that this thing was going to grow up to be a slipper with eyes!
Sure enough, the dog ended up having stomach problems; i.e. he throws up once a week in some random corner of the house. He requires special food that cost $70 for a month’s supply. He also gets a skin rash every spring and starts chewing on his own flesh. Yes… that means he has to wear one of those stupid cones around his neck!
Don’t even ask me to walk him wearing that!
But my wife loves him, and that’s all that matters.
Happy wife… happy life.
If you ever see me walking the little poofball, just remember. It’s her dog, not mine! (Why can’t her mom breed Labradors?)