Does This Look Like a Bad Idea?
Asking for a friend
“Never buy a dog. The right dog will come to you.”
That’s what my dad said. The only time we did buy a dog it was a doggy disaster. Digory was adorable but psychotic. My dad only bought it because I held it in the parking lot and it was love at first lick — for me. Also, the parking lot seller knocked some off the price. And my dad loved a good deal.
I was usually the dog whisperer of the family, but this dog left me stumped. He started fights, often. He could be a bully. Then he’d lick your face like a sweetheart. Then he’d growl if you touched his blanket. He didn’t understand “no.” He did whatever he wanted.
Heck, the donkeys my dad bought for me were probably a better decision.
Digory the dog only reinforced my dad’s theory. “See? You should never buy a dog!”
All the other dogs we had were either given to us or wandered up of their own accord. Good, sweet dogs that (mostly) did what they were told. At one point, my dad had been blessed with one too many free dogs and asked, “Is there a sign up somewhere that this is a dog haven?”
We had seven dogs by then.
But, this story isn’t about Digory the psycho-pup, Traddles the skunk-dog, or any other…
