“Pet Peeve”

I don’t know if they have them. There seem to be a lot of improbable things nowadays—things you couldn’t have imagined years ago. Or maybe you could have, if you’d sat down and given it some thought. But really, who had the time? And even if you did, would you have come up with Surgery Barn for a discount surgery franchise, Paper Cut for a document‑shredding company, or The Ricotta Regatta for a fundraiser for the Cheese Advisory Board?

Those are some of my marketing ideas. Now I have a new one, born not out of cleverness but out of the real‑life experience of having a pet. I should explain that by “having” a pet, I mean caring for a pet that is not my own. My brother—bless his heart, as my Southern readers might say—flew off to South Africa and asked me to watch his dog for “two days.” That was two months ago.

The dog, a poodle, is by most accounts a joy to be with. When I say “most accounts,” I mean everyone’s but mine. Truthfully, the dog could not be easier. Even I recognize that. She is quiet, clean, and waits to do her business outside or when I take her for a walk every afternoon after lunch. She is playful but not overly energetic, and sharp enough to communicate through her eyes and a carefully placed paw on my arm or leg. As far as dogs go, she couldn’t be better.

And maybe that’s the problem. I don’t want to go as far as dogs go. Why? I’ll sum it up in one word: dependency. They’re too dependent for my taste. This dog is a small poodle. I have seen giant ones, and I’m told most poodles are big. I did not know that. I had assumed they were all dainty and Disney‑like. Maybe a bigger one would be less dependent, though I don’t see the correlation between size and emotional dependency. Now that I think of it, I know a guy who has a giant poodle that sticks to him like a shadow.

This one follows me around constantly, stares at me from the other room, and cleans herself under my chair or bed until I lose patience and raise my voice. She has no idea why, and I have to wonder myself. I’ll tell you, though, I’ve discovered that this little pooch has a very stubborn personality. She refuses to go out in the rain, even when it’s just a drizzle. She digs her claws into the grass or sidewalk on walks to make sure I stop whenever and wherever she decides to stop. I figure that if I’m the one who has to stuff her feces into little plastic bags as thin as a condom, I should be the one making the decisions on the walk.

She understands that now. So, she’ll slink under my bed at night or into the spot I made for her out of an Amazon delivery box, old bath towels, and bedsheets. She doesn’t insist on trying to sleep with me anymore. I think we’ve established the foundation of a working relationship and daily ritual patterns, which makes it much easier on both of us. Just the other day—Ash Wednesday—in the confessional, the priest said, “Clarity is charity.” He said it in reference to people, but I’m applying it to the dog, since she lives with me now.

I know what you’re thinking, but I am not a bad man. I’m just not a dog man. I can see why some people prefer cats. They are independent and self‑reliant, at least as far as I can see. I don’t have to cater to their needs or concern myself with their happiness. They seek it themselves. I have much less responsibility, if any at all. I like that. I’ve spent a lifetime being responsible for others, and I’d rather not take on any more in retirement, even if it’s to watch a dog for “two days.” I mean months.

There’s a reason this dog has entered my life, especially during Lent. God is trying to teach me patience and kindness. You’d think I would have learned both by now. Apparently not. But I realize I am also helping the dog. She needs a stable place and a human who looks a lot like her owner. In fact, we look so much alike that it could account for all the staring.

So, here’s my idea: if they don’t have pet rentals now—as improbable as that sounds—they really should consider it. It would help in so many ways by showing people whether they’re dog people, cat people, or neither. Why not call it Pet Peeve?”

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