Kids and dogs! January 16, 2010

My daughters are now 22 and 25 and while I love them to death they are not as much fun as when they were 2 and 5.  Stories about my kids kept my friends amused for years.  The first word that Veronica ever read, M A C Y S, (at age 2, maybe 3 I may be bragging) while her mother was reading an ad for Macy's was a clue as to her future abilities.  Not as a reader, she gave that skill up after second grade, but as a shopper.  She can still do major damage to a Department store and a credit card.  The outstanding ability of Denise to lie with a completely straight face as she looked up from her crib with her diaper around her ankles and shook her head no, when her mother asked her if she had taken her diaper off. Or on one of those rare Sundays (Easter) that we attended Mass when Denise asked in a very loud, high pitched voice after our explanation of Easter, and just as the church quieted down for the procession, 'Where's the dead guy?"  I miss those stories and I miss those days.  My daughters are still a lot of fun, but our conversations are not nearly as hilarious as when Veronica used to answer 28,29 to any question you asked her from her age, to her weight to the channel on the TV.  I realize that one may not make sense to all of you, but in my house it killed.

So 10 years ago I broke down and bought Denise the puppy that she had been begging for, she picked out a beautiful English Cocker Spaniel who we named CHIP, within two weeks it became painfully obvious that Chip was really my dog, especially when it came time to walk, bathe, feed or pick up poop. I can't complain, the Chipster was 32 pounds of love who would pee on you as quick as look at you. Mary (wife) would always comment on how sad he looked even as his nub of a tail was beating like a metronome.  We talked about getting him a companion dog to keep him company while we were all out at work but we never did and last year Chip went overnight from being an energetic, ball of puppy fur, to an old man.  After becoming one of those people I used to laugh about who spend thousands of dollars on a dog, Chip was humanely put down and passed away in my arms.  We had him cremated and I once again became the cliche of the pet owner who's pet's ashes are in a box on my mantle.  For weeks I would say hi to the box and occasionally I imagined the box barked at me as I came in the front door.  After everything that we had gone through with the Chip, Mary who amazed herself about how much she cared for the dog despite not being a dog person, felt that we had had enough dogs to last a lifetime, some day I'll tell you about Wizard.  But the Lord (and me and Denise) works in mysterious ways and after an extensive internet search, Denise discovered a breeder (Blue Chip Kennels, how's that for coincidence) who had a red headed version of Chip, and within a week,  Fox was on his way from Iowa to New Jersey.  As we waited for Fox, Denise showed me a picture of a chocolate brown puppy from a later litter at the same breeder and remembering the lonely life of Chip, Fox got a little brother named Chocolate Chip.  After we peeled Mary off the ceiling we started to accommodate our lives to these two little beasts.  We've already had them chew through electrical wires, swallow socks, lick a hole in the wall behind their crate, they have accomplished something that no alarm clock ever could, getting me to wake up at 5-5:30 AM with a small bark or whine.  I look forward to many more adventures and will relate them soon.