Marley and Me
My husband and I, when we were just newly married purchased a pure-bred Bichon Frise who we named Leo. Leo was a horrible puppy. Why did we complicate our lives with this white cotton ball of a dog? He peed under the couch, pooped by the bedroom door if it was closed, chewed his way through a baby gate, humped everything in sight especially corduroy clad legs and enjoyed eating many of my shoes. He took off running like a wild stallion through the neighborhood while I chased after him, barefoot, pregnant and livid. We called him Houdini for his ability to get through our homemade barricades of coffee tables, chairs, rope, and laundry baskets. He would climb, bite, twist and contort his little body in order to get free.
Leo happily settled into middle age, thank goodness, as a much calmer, sweeter dog who was content to be alone and nap all day with tiny bouts of playfulness. In other words, he was perfect!
Last fall an eight week old Great Dane puppy came into our lives, how could we refuse a helpless pup who needed a home? He was even smaller than our Leo. Surely having this dog would be easier than the hell that was Leo when he was a puppy. Plus, since we had been through it once before, wouldn’t the second time be easier? And Leo would be like a father to this puppy! He could help us teach her. And Lola was so small, surely she would not become one of those beastly, enormous Great Danes the size of a donkey. Right!
Of course Lola had other plans none of them involved peeing outside, listening, or not chewing things that did not belong to her. In no time, Lola had driven me to the brink of insanity prompting me to proclaim, “Really, this time I mean it, no more puppies…ever!” That has become my daily mantra.
At seven months old she has more than quadrupled her body size and weight, she has chewed slippers and shoes, finds it a great fun to run from me when she has stolen a toy or game piece or napkin or her beloved dryer sheets from a stack of fresh laundry. Lola has bitten the end of our wooden banister to a nub and enjoys putting her paws on the counter and leaning into the sink for a treat of dirty dishes piled high enough for her snout to reach. Bathtub water, especially with bubbles, is a delicacy that rivals Snausages. In other words, I have a Marley too.
I got my hands on a copy of Marley and Me, finishing it in record time hoping for some pointers dealing with my own troublesome dog. Last night, I knocked the da Vinci Code (which I have still yet to read) out of my husband's hands, thrusted the book at him said, “You have to read this! It's so good!” And he replied, “If it’s so good, why are you crying?” It is a book that will make you laugh and sob, especially if you have lived with a naughty canine, one filled with equal parts mischievousness and love.
By the end of the book I felt like I knew Marley personally. I highly recommend this best seller if you are a dog lover or not. It's nice to know I'm not alone with a pet who stirs up trouble while at the same time, looking so darn cute.