If you are a parent, you know this triangle. It's the triangle between you, the child going through a biting phase, and the soon-to-be bitee. Or the triangle formed when you see the plastic shovel in one child's hand, the satisfyingly round, soft target of a playmate's head, and the parent just one half step too far away to prevent the inevitable.
End result: Monk got the cracker, Tallulah got three stitches, Monk found a new home in, um, heaven. Shelters don't take kindly to dogs with a history of biting. (ooh, writing this brings back my feelings of guilt. Poor poor Monk. But you try living with an animal who has bitten your baby.)
Since then we've had Boogey 1-- too yippy and jumpy. Boogey 2-- large and energetic. He knocked Tallulah over so many times, she decided big dogs were for suckers and started a whining campaign for a lapdog.
So when Kent pulled out our Dog Breed Book tonight and started talking about the Italiano Spumoni breed, I thought, "Oh no! Another dog to torture and ignore." But look how cute!
We want to name him Antonio and say "Ciao" and "Espresso" a lot.
Oh, I know, I know. We won't get another dog-- we are on a dog hiatus. It's just us and Gladys, the yellow foot tortoise. But maybe we need a kitten. And then if we get a kitten, we'll need a friend for it. Have you read "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie"? We're "If You Give our Family a Pet."
Here's the thing: there's all this research about pets being good for a person's health. They lower blood pressure, decrease depression, they probably cure cancer and stinky armpits, too. But you never hear about children curing ANYTHING. Except maybe bloated bank accounts. A dog is loving and affectionate, doesn't whine for juice or scream because he just pooped himself. A dog is an easy companion.
Of course, this is only in theory. In reality, dogs need a lot of attention and walks and food and they actually do whine and yell and beg, but in the doggy way. So really what Kent and I are doing are fantasizing. About dogs. Which, I guess is ok? Is maybe a little weird? Maybe a little pedestrian or suburban? Like fantasizing about the Pottery Barn or Ikea catalogs. Which we do.
Aah. Ikea.
