Since mom had a slight aversion to anything with four legs, I decided to try the modified approach. “Okay,” I said. “I’m willing to settle for a three-legged retriever.” I don’t care if he limps. He can chase decoys. Mom would hear none of it.
I proceeded to the guilt strategy. “But Mom, Ernie has his own dog.” I didn’t think it was necessary to add frivolous details like his dog’s dining habits: shoes, furniture, electrical cords…
“Does Ernie’s dog clean up
after himself?” Mom asked.
“I don’t recollect ever
seeing a self-cleaning dog,” I answered.
“Exactly,” Mom went on. “And who do you think would be cleaning up
after your dog?”
“Obviously it would be you,”
I answered.
“That’s a good reason not to
have a dog,” Mom went on.
“Okay,” I pleaded, “I’ll
train him to go in the neighbor’s yard.
I promise.”
Mom shot me a look of
displeasure that glanced off my forehead, leaving me momentarily dazed. Any more looks like that and I would have to
hunker down behind some furniture. It
was my good fortune that she turned and walked away.
I could see this wasn’t
going to be easy. Mom’s clever wit and
polished oral arguments would be hard to penetrate but, hopefully, my pouting,
whimpering and whining would overcome sound reason.
As she continued presenting
her case for not having a dog, I excused myself and high-tailed it for
Ernie’s.
“Maybe you should ease your
way in,” said Ernie. “Why don’t you
start out with a rental dog?”
“Are you kidding?” I asked.
“No, you could rent a dog for
special occasions, like when you just need a companion for the day, or to chase
away meter readers, tax assessors, or other vermin.”
That wasn’t a bad idea, but I really
didn’t want a rental. I wanted my own
dog. I ran back home to continue my
case.
To be continued...check back soon
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