Dodo Eggs

I have always been opposed to owning a dog.  Let’s face it, they don’t really contribute to the household in any tangible way.  When you account for the dander, hair, trips out, the deposits in your yard, vet care, dog food, bad breath, and baths, it’s really hard to make the case for owning one. 

Almost the same thing could be said about kids.  (Oops, I didn’t mean that.)

I’m willing to speculate that dogs fulfill a caregiver impulse in the human makeup.  The idea of unconditional love and interaction without complex nature of a human relationship has appeal.  Dogs are forgiving and obedient on a level that other members of the family will never attain.

But the breath…

Melissa’s brother Sid worked part-time building fences.  One day he called the Teply’s from a job site claiming that a flea covered, starving dog was following him around.  He wanted to know if we wanted to see it.

I gave my brother-in-law the same response I offer to all that call me with unbelievable special offers.  “No, and please loose this number.”

Melissa and I had just moved into our first apartment and space was tight.  Nevermind the added rent we would be required to fork out by owning a pet.

I tired to finish woth my brother-in-law, “Our apartment is the size of a cat box.  Why would we want a dog?”

Melissa was sitting on the couch pretending to read a book.  What she was really doing was evesdropping.  “A dog?  Really?”  She rushed me and snatched the phone.  “ Ok Sid, bring it by so we can just look at it.”

“I know how this will end!” I began after she hung up.  “If you look at this poor animal and fall in love, which you will, then I’m stuck taking it out at night.  We’ll have to pay the pet fee.  Why do we want to start this sort of thing?!”

She hung up the phone and gave me a “sweet” look and said, “Don’t you love me?”

“Alright, fine!  However, if you do decide you want to keep this animal and I am to reluctantly participate in its care then I get one wish.  I get to name the dog.”

“Ok, but what name do you have in mind?”

I gave her a sideways grin.  “You know what?  I was kind of thinking about naming it Turd.”

Her eyes widened.  “You can’t name a dog Turd!”

We battled for the next little while over my proposal.  The entire crux of her argument was, “You can’t name a dog Turd!”

When a knock came to the door, Melissa forgot our disagreement and rushed over to open it.  Her brother waltzed in closly followed by a short, brown haired wiener dog. 

“The gods have spoken!”  I proclaimed.  “How can you debate such an obvious case of kismet!  The dog is named Turd.  Here, Turd!  Here, my little Turd.”

Melissa planted a finger in my chest.  “Let’s end this now.  We are not naming the dog Turd.  Try again.”

I sarcastically took the name conjuring to the other extreme.  “Well then, how about Prince Phillip?  Does that suit his four leg-ness?”

Melissa smiled.  “Yes, I think Phillip will do nicely.”  A thought crossed her face.  “You weren’t planning on naming any of our children right?”

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