Anyone who knows me, knows I love animals.  Especially dogs, with cats coming in a close second.  But I love all animals.  I used to hold out some of that love for snakes.  I hated them.  I viewed it as my duty to society to eradicate as many of the slithering critters as possible.  However, my cousin Bonnie Marie put a stop to that.  Not by criticizing my snakicidal tendency, but by what I think she was so good at… by reason.

“Eric, why do you love animals?”

“I don’t know.  I suppose it’s because they are God’s creatures, God’s creation.  Man can reason and understand.  Animals, can’t, so they can’t understand how to live in our world.”  (As an aside, I’m no longer so certain the bit about reason and understanding is necessarily true.)

“But you hate snakes.” It was not a hard observation to make.  We were in the car, and I’d just swerved to purposely run over one.

“Yes.”

“God didn’t create snakes?”

“Well, yes.  God did.”

“You said (in a part of the conversation I left out) that you love all God’s creation.”

“Uh-huh.”  I might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I ain’t burned out, either!  I knew where this was going.

“And you don’t see anything wrong with what you just did.”

I met her last comment with silence.  No more was said.  I won’t pick up a snake.  I’m terrified of snakes.  I think I’d be hard pressed to say that ‘I love snakes’.  But, they get a pass from me, now.  We have a truce.  I won’t swerve out of my way to hit them, and they won’t drop out of the clear blue sky and bite me.

So what, you might ask?  This week, we have a new addition to our family.  Scott and I arrived home from church about 3 pm.  There was a… noise… coming from Gary’s room.  I knocked and walked in.  There was Gary, and there was a dog. (Yes, the bit about a snake was just a side story.)

The dog’s name is Buddy.  “How old is Buddy?” I ask.  “I don’t know. He’s just a puppy.”  “What’s his breed.” “I don’t know.”  “Who is his vet?  Has he been vaccinated?” “I don’t know.”  “Is he house-broken?” Wait for it…. wait for it…. “I don’t know.”  “What CAN you tell me about him?”  “His name is Buddy.  Steve had to get rid of him, so he brought him here.”  “Do you WANT him?” “Yeah, kind of.”

[A little bit about Steve.  We have a tense relationship with Steve.  Over the years some things have gone missing from our house.  A camera.  A video camera.  A laptop.  We always thought it was another man, Josh, who was Gary’s nephew.  But when the last item, a camera, went missing, Josh was in Oregon.  He was there because I told him he was no longer welcome in my house, whether or not he was Gary’s nephew.  So he moved home, where he is now a ward of the state, having stolen a car. It took us another several years to catch on it was Steve.  Steve would be banished as well, but he is one of the very few friends Gary has.  Since Gary can no longer leave the house, we let Steve come over, as long as he’s never unattended.  Steve is not the most responsible of adults.  When I say “Some people should not be allowed to have pets…” Steve is who I am referring to.]

Gary’s been asking for over a year for a new dog, ever since Lacy went to the Bridge, so I knew he wanted Buddy.

So, Buddy came out to the living room to greet us, and spend a little time with us.  Nikki isn’t too sure what to make of this interloper, so she’s reacting the way she always does when she’s not sure… she’s scared.

Buddy came galloping in… he never walks, he always runs.  And immediately, the leg goes up.  Nope, not house-broken.

A little while later, I go back to talk to Gary. “Gary, I have some questions you need to ask Steve.”  Gary goes me one better, and immediately calls Steve, then hands me the phone.

Eric: “Steve, how old is Buddy?”

Steve:  “He was 6 months when we got him.” Like that tells me anything.

Eric:  “When was that?”

Steve:  “Last February.  Or March.”  Buddy is 18 months old.

Eric:  “I see.  Is he house-broken?”  Leading question, there.

Steve:  “We’ve been working on it, but no, not really.”  Yeah, right.

Eric:  “Okay.  Is he up to date on his shots.”  I already know the answer.

Steve:  “When we got him, he was.” In other words, no.

Eric:  “Who’s his vet?”  Again, I already know the answer.

Steve:  “I don’t know.”  Yup, that’s the answer I expected.

Eric:  “What’s his breed?”

Steve:  “Half Schnauzer, half Chihuahua.” Really?  I don’t see any Chihuahua in him!  He’s easily twice the size of any Chihuahua I’ve ever seen!

Well, I’ll keep the rest of our conversations on the dog out of the story, and just give you the facts.  Since Gary can’t walk the dog, I do.  I take him 6 times a day for a walk, but should probably go more.  I’m getting good exercise!  By the end of the day, yesterday, Gary (who hasn’t done anything for the dog) had had it.  He didn’t want the dog.  So he called Steve up and told him to come get the dog.  Surprise, surprise, Steve said NO!  Gary asked me to take Buddy to the Pound today, and I agreed.

But that didn’t set well with me.  It made me feel like a bad person to consign poor Buddy to the shelter.  Scott thinks Buddy is so cute, and still young enough, that they’ll have no problem adopting him out.  But, they have to tell prospective adopters everything they know, and I’m thinking the house-breaking problem might be an issue.

So this morning when Gary got up, we talked.  He really does kind of want the dog.  Okay, he really wants the dog.  Gary told me that after we decided to take Buddy to the shelter he (Gary) cried.  It turns out that Gary wanted me to take Buddy to the shelter because Gary thought that was what I wanted to do.  By this morning, he thinks it was my decree, not his decision.  Men may be from Mars and women from Venus… but Gary… he’s from Andromeda!  He doesn’t feel it’s fair to me to have to walk him, and everything else in the way of care, and to a degree I agree with him.  We have to walk him, because our back yard is not fenced in completely, and the first time out he made a beeline for the street.  “COME!” is not a command he understands.  Well, maybe he understands it… he just chooses not to obey it!

Oh, I should probably add that I told Gary in no uncertain terms that this house would not become home to a litter of puppies, so since Nikki is 8 years old and unspayed, Buddy HAS to be neutered.  And Gary has to pay for it.  I told him I thought it would come to about $400.  I think that weighed in his decision to take Buddy to the Pound.

I got on the phone today and called our vet.  I explained our situation, and got the facts.  See, not only did I think  the neutering would run $400, but I thought we’d have to take Buddy in for a checkup first… at about $100.  It turns out, I was way wrong.  They’ll do the neutering without a preliminary checkup, or we can pay for an optional pre-screening which is, they said, about the same as a physical.  They’ll bring him up to date on all shots.  And they’ll do the neutering with laser surgery if I want… an optional procedure, but recommended in Buddy’s case.  And all of it comes to $295.  There’ll be a second round of vaccinations in 3 weeks for another $42.

Scott and I talked, and we agreed we would pay $110 of it.  That’s half the neutering fee, and all of the laser option fee.

And this coming Saturday, Scott and I will jerry-rig a fence along the south side of the back yard so we can put Buddy out without as much supervision.

One more thing I learned… Buddy goes all night… seven hours… without accidents.  He IS house-broken.  But he’s a compulsive marker.  All he’s doing is marking his territory.  Neutering should help with that.  Already, I’m seeing less of this behavior.  The frequent walking, the controlling water and food intake… it’s all helping to get us to the point where we’ll be able to allow Buddy to spend time with us, instead of keeping him locked up in Gary’s room with Gary.

Now, if we can get Buddy (stay tuned for a name change!  None of us like that one) to calm down for a little while, we’ll get a picture of him posted here in the next few days… or weeks…