Part of my heart was

June 19, 2003

Part of my heart was in a deep freeze. It lasted 23 years. That was the day my dog died. He came to us on Christmas day 1966 and left on easter Sunday 1980. I never had another dog but made room for cats -- Richard Starkey & George Harrison R.I.P. and Nigel the Cat in February 1990. Nigel has always wanted to be part of the action, comes when he’s called and bites people at random. He’s been a good substitute dog. He is probably the only cat with a gold & platinum album production credit to his name. He won best producer at the West Coast Music Awards in 1997 for his work on Odds “Nest”. He has a thyroid condition now and has used up about 19 of his 9 lives in daring feats of stupidity/adventure. He likes to be hosed down with a garden hose. Each cat has their thing I guess. He has hygiene issues.
All this lovely cat action does in no way equal having a dog. Some people make you choose. Beatles or Stones. Cat or dog. Some say, “I’m more of a cat person”. Choices like these don’t work for me. I want it all. I could fall in love with a turtle. Easily.
My dog was the second family member who ever died. This had a profound effect. He slept with me. We shared spit. I ate his dog biscuits. He ate my table scraps. He ran away. I hunted him down and brought him back. He followed me to school because he knew I needed an excuse to leave and take him home. This is all typical boy and his dog stuff. I, in fact, only read “boy and his dog” or “boy and his animal” books as an egg headed kid. Sad really -- Big Red, Gentle Ben, Old Yeller ...I used to put shaving cream around his mouth and reenact that last scene with the ol’ pop gun ( I could never do that shhhhhh ).
The time has never been right to get another dog. How it possibly could have been the right time to have three kids and not a dog is beyond me. You’ll have to ask my mate about that one. My lobbying has been strong but I live around people who are stronger than me. I also am a “leaver”. I am here in an intense way and then I leave for a while and then I come back and then I leave again. This means that all my responsibilities have to be shared by someone else to make the boat float. Well...guess what?! The responsibility sharers have floated in on their little angel wings holding a 9 week old black Labradoodle puppy. Big Standard Poodle got a gleam in his eye and bought the fetching big black Lab a drink.
All I can say is “ FUCKIN’ RIGHTS!”. Now we’re talking real life drama kids!

That little part of my heart thawed instantly.