My Furry Doormat

                                                                 

My Furry Doormat

         Our dog is a doormat, a ten-year-old doormat, but he wasn’t always one.  When he was a puppy, he was very industrious.  He worked in the house and outside as well.

Outside, he loved to garden, and he often made executive decisions concerning garden maintenance.  For instance, he considered our drip system for watering the flowers inaesthetic, so he ripped it out and demanded we install an underground system whose heads would only pop up after midnight, retracting during the sunlight hours.  After all, water conservation is so important these days, and who cares about money?  Once, when he was playing tug of war, he pruned our newly planted magnolia tree and stunted its growth.  He also explained to us that, for the lawn, it was no longer necessary to buy fertilizer because he would gladly furnish it free of charge.  All he asked in exchange was to snack on pears and apples in the fall and cherries in the spring. 

He focused on the interior of our house when the weather turned too hot or too cold, and after about a year, his decorative prowess encouraged us to replace our shabby carpet with a newer, cleaner version, and he absolutely refused to live with our antiquated remote control.  Really, we needed to make an effort.  The rickety television stand had to go as well, and just to make sure that we understood, he bit a huge chunk out of it.  In the end, he was right because the new one is much nicer.  And for payment?  Just a snatched turkey leg when our backs were turned on Thanksgiving and the occasional loaf of bread we might forget to put away, nothing much.

Did you see the Pixar movie “Up”?  The one with the stupid, overweight golden retriever, Dug, who says, “I have just met you, and I love you”?  Well, that’s Apollo, and for a long time, he was very social.  In fact, he made it a point of honor to visit everyone’s home at least once a day, not to mention his trip to the local primary school.  That day, he made friends with our local policemen and even got to ride in their squad car.

Being a socialite is all well and good; nevertheless, we hired a private tutor to teach him that he was much happier staying at home without passing the front gate.  Yet, sometimes he forgets and invites himself to the neighbors’ for a caress anyway.

Like Dug, in the movie “Up,” Apollo has worn the collar of shame many times.  In fact, he loves his veterinarian, so he makes sure that we visit him regularly.  I’m always surprised to meet dog owners there who only bring their canine friends in when they need a vaccination.  Don’t they know how much dogs love to go to the vet?  Apollo is president of his vet’s fan club. 

Did I mention that Apollo sings?  Oh yes, he has quite a voice, and every time he doesn’t “see” me, he sings and invites all the neighbors to his concert, whether they like dog opera or not.  Apollo wants them to know that his mama is misbehaving.  It’s true.  I should have learned by now that he can’t stay in the garden without me.  One day, he’ll have me trained.  In the meantime, he chooses his threshold based on my current position, so I’m always having to step over my furry doormat.