DIED 2016
ONCE UPON A TIME there was a woman who wanted a dog, but her husband said no. A dog is too much trouble. We have enough to worry about. Then some friends had triplets and someone had to take their black Lab. The Lab, it turned out, was an impeccably trained dog who never needed a leash, never barked or whined, let little girls put their hands in her mouth and ride around on her back. But as well trained as she was, the Lab would occasionally run away overnight, and the man would suffer unbearable anxiety. So when the woman wanted to get a second dog, he said definitely not.
Then his brother gave them a puppy for Hanukkah, an eight-week-old ball of white fluff with pink bows on her ears. Immediately she started following the big dog around, chasing her long black tail. One wag would send her flying across the room. Then she’d come back for more. Who says no to that?
The years went by. The big dog died, the daughters grew up and went away, and the woman was busy, too. She was never as crazy about the miniature poodle as she had been about the Lab, and the husband, who was an emotional guy, felt the dog was a little bit lost. He started taking her with him into his studio all day. She became his assistant director, his sous-chef, his sidekick.
Some people may have thought he was obsessed with the dog. As she got older and increasingly fragile, he worried about her more and more. Then, at thirteen, she developed a serious heart condition and had to wear diapers. The wife said it was time to put her down. But he just couldn’t.
When they left for Europe the wife said, Say goodbye. He tried. Then he got the text from the house sitter as soon as they got off the plane in Amsterdam. He called me from the airport. What do I do now, he said, and he started to cry.
This is why he didn’t want a dog.