Mr. Dog: A New Adventure

The time was never right for a dog. Maybe there never is a right time. Still, a series of events led us to take one on. Maybe it was fate. A puppy Sam dubbed Mr. Dog was to become part of our family.

This news was met with degrees of enthusiasm. Sam was delighted. I was optimistic. Tony was apprehensive at best:

Tony: Mr. Dog will live outside.

Me: Mr. Dog will live in the house with us.

Tony: My mother said animals belong outside.

Me: My mother never said anything like that.

Tony: I’m not going to like this.

Me: Probably not.

Tony: What if it doesn’t work out?

Me: We’ll go with plan “B”.

Tony: What is plan B?… There’s no plan B, is there.

Me: No, not really.

The day Mr. Dog arrived he displayed a meek and gentle nature.

On day two, he settled in. With the skill of Houdini, he wiggled out his harness multiple times in seconds and tried to eat it. By day three, I questioned why we didn’t name him Jaws. He thought the toilet scrub brush was a chew toy. He eyed a heavy cable wire like it was a juicy steak. He ate my rose bush. For dessert, he ate the power cord to my Mac.

On day four I admitted it: Mr. Dog was a lot of work. He was everywhere. He ate like a pig. He slobbered his water. He christened my carpets. His shrill voice woke me at 5:10 each day. He stalked my shoes. He chewed my bra in half and wore it like a party hat. I wondered if Mr. Dog would survive into week two.

Fortunately, Mr. Dog was blessed with the maximum of puppy cuteness. He had the market cornered on happy. It was hard to stay angry at a creature so gleeful. I was also well versed in negotiating the unexpected. Courtesy of autism, the unexpected had been our norm for a while.

Most of all there was the Sam factor: I was optimistic about this new adventure for Sam. I was hopeful through Mr. Dog Sam would gain some independence; that Mr. Dog would become a trusted friend.

As Sam patted Mr. Dog I saw the first glimmers of magic. He laughed each time I said, “Mr. Dog, you are in big trouble” and offered some helpful advice: “Mr. Dog, whatever you do, don’t eat the TV.”

The defining moment occurred as I watched Sam cradle Mr. Dog and whisper, “He’s perfect.”

Each time I am frustrated with Mr. Dog, I hear Sam’s soft whisper and know we’ve made a good choice.

Mr. Dog, I bid you welcome. Welcome to our new adventure.