Let me (Mark) tell you about my dog, Max.
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About 11 years ago, a friend of ours had gotten this cute white puffball of a dog he named Murphy and we thought it would be cool to get one just like it. So we made a trip to see Murphy’s “brother.” The “breeder” turned out to be an elderly lady with a bunch of dogs penned up in her kitchen. As Max grew, we realized we may have been fooled into believing he was the true brother of a Bichon Yorkie we admired rather than a product of whatever went on in the lady’s kitchen.
Murphy had bright white puffy cotton ball-like fur and Max turned out to have yellowish limp locks that made him look like the poor pathetic cousin from across the tracks.
But Max has been a great companion. When he was a puppy, he always had to be on the move. He was not very cuddly and did not like to be held very long. He was sitting beside me recently on what had not been a good day. I felt like the old guy who answers the question, “Hello, sir, how are you today?” with “Horrible! Just horrible.” It seemed like a day I would have been better off just staying home.
As Max sat next to me, I had a moment of great appreciation for him. Max was just happy to be there, sitting beside me in the safety and comfort of our home. He was happy to just be.
As time has gone on and I have gotten older, I feel like I have mellowed. I used to try to be like Cesar the Dog Whisperer recommended — leader of the pack, the alpha male who used to like being with Max, but felt it was necessary each night to require Max to sleep in his cage to keep him in his place. I am now that guy in the cartoon to whom the dog says (as he is laying on my favorite pillow) “The couch is available.”
Since Max is getting old (77 in dog years) I have decided to let things slide and he now sleeps in our bed each night. I was out of town recently and knew my wife Lisa would be in bed and texted her to tell Max to get off my pillow. She cracked up laughing because before she received my text she was sending me a picture of Max who was totally enjoying my pillow and my absence.
You may be thinking, “Aw, he sounds like a really cute dog.” He is, but Max is no saint. He has done his best to destroy our house. He has never kicked the habit of marking his territory. Every corner of every chair has been hit repeatedly. Anything left on the floor is a target. Once, I had to inform Lisa he nailed the bottom of one of her dresses that hung from a doorknob. Max has mastered the art of stealth. He sneaks off and does it even though he knows it is wrong.
We have tried everything to break this. One year our family Christmas letter talked about “puppy diapers.” It did not work. Max couldn’t have cared less that he peed himself repeatedly inside his “belly band.” I have to admit, during several points of exasperation I thought about finding him a new home. Then I thought, “I couldn’t do that to him.” He is flawed like the rest of us. I wouldn’t get rid of one of our kids, so I couldn’t get rid of Max.
I think Max is going blind, too, because when he is in the bed with Lisa and anyone enters the room he barks and growls like he is going to tear you a new one. Even when he knows it is me, he has to act all tough and continue to growl a while like it is a game.
Max absolutely lives for his rubber chew toy. It is actually the third or fourth version of the same toy and I fear he will be devastated when this one is done for, as I have not been able to find another.
What Max really lives for is being with us. It seems his favorite time of the day is when I get up to go to the bedroom each evening. He gets all excited, grabs his toy and runs into the bedroom and jumps on the bed to take his place among the comfy blankets.
Max is just happy to be there and just happy to be. Me too.
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