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Humor April 2013

That Doggone Loveable Dog

By John C. Liburdi

Eventually, I was the guy who had to “walk the dog” several times a day. I humbly followed Chippy around, discretely carrying a small plastic bag. If visiting Martians happened to be watching that scene, they undoubtedly perceived the royally serviced dog to be the superior being.

My wife finally popped the old Patti Page question, “How much is that doggie in the window?”

The answer was acceptable back in the ‘50s, but 60 years later we’re talking sticker shock here. One of those troublesome little dogs costs more than an Arab sheik would pay to add a natural blonde wife to his harem. Nevertheless, we bought a male terrier puppy and named him Chippy.

At first, there were stinking little piles of poo all over our Brazilian wood floors. Then my wife hired a PhD dog trainer to gently potty train the dog — something I could have easily accomplished by using a cattle prod. Eventually, I was the guy who had to “walk the dog” several times a day. I humbly followed Chippy around, discretely carrying a small plastic bag. If visiting Martians happened to be watching that scene, they undoubtedly perceived the royally serviced dog to be the superior being.

Once Chippy matured a little bit, it was time to buy him some nice outfits to wear on chilly days. I was quite peeved about his Starter jacket selection; he went for the Packers instead of the Saints. Obviously, Chippy also needed some amusement so my wife raced to the big toy store to buy his playthings. I suppose the Furby toys were a good selection, but why did she buy him that karaoke machine?

Then Chippy started working his way up the food chain. First were the jars of baby food; then came foil packets of gourmet blend puppy chow. Next, my wife introduced Chippy to sirloin steak tidbits. That sure whet his appetite for meat; now he has prime filet at least once each day. By the way, Chippy enjoys sparkling mineral water with all his meals.

Not surprisingly, Chippy’s insatiable appetite for rich food caused some dental issues. So, it was off to the vet for more coddling. The doc prescribed comprehensive gum treatment and a set of braces to give Chippy a Hollywood smile. I immediately understood why there was a new Mercedes in the doc’s reserved parking spot. So, we opted for an electric toothbrush, regular flossing and whitening strips. The dog sure seemed to enjoy having my wife tend to this tedious work.

Chippy started growing quickly. It was pretty obvious when he finally reached puberty. The tip-off was when he started desperately hugging the legs of every nice looking woman that visited in our home — kind of embarrassing. On the positive side, things became much quieter around the house once those chatty gals stopped dropping by for coffee klatches.

After two years of being chained to our dog at home, my wife and I finally decided to go downtown to see a touring Broadway show. Chippy threw a terrible tantrum while we were out. He tore up all our house slippers and broke several large ceramic figurines. My wife quickly got over that, particularly in light of the fact that she had to go upstate to perform assistant midwife duties at our pregnant daughter’s house.

So, I was left home alone with Chippy. It wasn’t long before I heard the dog enthusiastically barking into his loud karaoke machine downstairs. I began fanaticizing about gory Alfred Hitchcock things I could do to that blasted dog. Needless to say, I wasn’t completely focused as I started rushing down the stairs. Next thing I knew, I was tumbling down the staircase.

Boy was I in big trouble, sprawled out on the floor with a broken hip. Well, that darn dog saw I was in a bad way. Chippy came over and started licking my face. Then, I very politely asked him to fetch my cell phone from the living room. He promptly brought it over and set it right where I lay so I could call 911 for help.

They wouldn’t let Chippy visit me while I was in the hospital, but I thought of him often as my hip was healing. Obviously, I had misjudged the little mutt. Who knows, my wife may have been right about Chippy deserving lots of spoiling and pampering.

Anyway, I’m out of the hospital now, although I must use a walker to get around. The dog that saved my life proudly sits on the seat pad of the walker as I move about. Perched there, this wonderful little guy looks nobler than the chrome bulldog hood ornament on a Mack truck.

Gosh, I just have to ask: Honey, do you think Chippy would enjoy a relaxing session at the new pet massage parlor downtown?

 

Liburdi's recent book "Italian American Fusion: Italy's Influence on the Evolution of America" is available at on-line bookstores and the Kindle Reader.

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