A boy and his dog (not the movie)...

When I first published this post, I forgot to preface it with the fact that this is from Greg and not Sally. Sorry to confuse anyone with my first blog entry...



I just ran across this old picture on my work PC, and it reminded me why we have a dog. I know that there are "cat people" and "no pets people" who will never consider having a dog around the house, but let me just say that I'm starting to understand what my dad means when he says "Every boy should have a dog."

When I was very young my family had a smaller black lab who lived outside. I was too young to develop a very good relationship with an outdoor dog, so he existed in my immature mind as a toy or, at best, a useful tool for hunting and playing fetch on occasion. Looking back, I feel bad about what little attention he got sometimes -- especially in the winter. His passing was noted with some sorrow, but since I hadn't really developed a real relationship with him the sorrow was on par with having your favorite bike ruined.

During my early teens, my mother was presented on Mother's Day with a large cardboard box -- a large and moving cardboard box. Inside was a small white fuzzball who would later be named Shanghai. The name had several levels of meaning, ranging from the location of the breed's origin to the fact that it was actually my younger brother who wanted a dog. In any case, I think it took about 10 seconds for my mom to fall in love with him, and he served as a loyal and loving friend to her up until the day he died. As everyone else was growing up and moving out, and as my dad retired, "Shang" remained a constant that my mom could always turn to.

I was almost too old at that point to really, truly become attached to Shang. I loved him as a pet and enjoyed playing with him both inside and outdoors, but in the end he was just a pet. I had discovered friends, girls, video games, and all the other distractions that come with teenage life. Shang died long after I had moved out of the house. I was truly sad at hearing of his passing, but I realize now that I was mostly sad for my mom and her loss. It hurts me a bit to think that, but I know it's true.

Back when Sally and I were still uncertain whether or not children were going to be a possibility for us, she breached the idea of getting a dog. We had always agreed on getting a dog some day, but at the time we lived in an apartment and I knew that I wasn't ready to get one. I wanted to have a house and yard where the dog could come in and out as it pleased, not only helping to keep messes to a minimum but also to give it as much freedom to live and grow as we could in a suburban environment. Sally solved that problem easily by finding a home builder and an empty lot. She told me that we were going to build the house, so why not just get the dog now? I'd really rather go up against a hungry tiger than try to dissuade Sally when her mind is set, so Baxter entered our lives.

It takes a certain kind of person to love a Pug. They're ugly to the point of being cute, they shed more than it should be possible for any animal to shed, and they develop a snore that could drive a lumberjack mad. Fortunately for them, they also have a personality that makes you want to give them everything without limit. It's not the selfish kind of "please me" that cats exude, but rather a playful and mutual uplifting of spirits. In any case, it didn't take long for us to become attached to Baxter. I quickly began to look at him as a child, and our relationship grew in much the same way.

Baxter filled the baby void for us until we discovered that Sally was pregnant with Ethan. We were overjoyed at the thought of having a child, but at the same time we worried that Baxter would get pushed out of the spotlight and become "just a pet." After Ethan's birth, it became apparent that we worried for nothing. I can remember sitting in the hospital with Sally as we tried to decide on a name for the baby, and our discussion turned to how excited we'd be to watch Baxter meet the baby for the first time. Sally mentioned that she wished Baxter could just come to the hospital, and I realized then that our little family was just going to continue to grow with Baxter as an integral part no matter how many kids we had.

Ethan doesn't know what it's like to not have a dog around the house, and he's grown up accepting the stray fur, chewed-up toys, and late-night barking as a part of life. I knew he'd like Baxter, but I never realized the subtle bond that would develop between them. They are brothers in the truest spiritual sense, even if they lack the genetics to make them part of the same species. They play like my brothers and I did. They fight like we did. They compete for attention like we did. And, maybe more interesting, they accept each other unconditionally as we did.

Baxter has become more than just a pet to Ethan, and we jokingly began calling him "Pug Brother" when Ethan was learning to talk. The name stuck, and to this day Ethan refers to him as Pug Brother, and to himself as People Brother. When he's sad, Ethan will often pretend both sides of a conversation with Baxter out loud, saying things like "what's wrong people brother?" or "I'm sorry pug brother." Baxter never hesitates to reciprocate by giving Ethan his attention during these times. It's actually very touching to see that kind of interaction.

Baxter is doing great and we expect him to be around for many more years. He's brought so much fun and love into our lives that I can't imagine ever not having him in our family. The unique relationship that he and Baxter have formed has enriched both of their lives greatly. I'm thankful that my son will always be able to say that he had a Pug-Brother.

Every boy should have a pug-brother...