A Dog’s Life

Milo and Remy, two Springer Spaniels, arrived at my Uncle’s house on Christmas Day, along with their owners Mark, Jeanette, and daughter Sara. Milo is older by eight months and was adopted by the family first, so he gets first dibs over the dog dish according to unwritten canine law. Remy, who is only one-year-old, is shorter with a longer tail nub, but otherwise an absolute replica of his buddy. Together, the two are like Shakespeare’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, mentally connected in a sort of dumb, cute, irreplicable way.

To honor the day, Milo is dressed in a patterned red bandana, which he tolerates surprisingly well. This gives Remy a strategic advantage over food droppings because whenever Milo passes through a room, under a table, or alongside someone’s leg, he is spotted immediately and his cover is blown.

“Oh, woojaboojawookahnullypooky!” squeals his beloved owner in adoration. “Yes, a boojahboojahdoo, I love you!”

Milo warms to her touch but keeps one eye on a small piece of smoked turkey which, unbeknownst to everyone else, has been dropped on the floor by my younger cousin Blake.

“Oh, but he is so cute, so cute, so cute, Mom,” the daughter says. “Oh Milo, we loooove you.” She joins in the petting frenzy and Milo is pleased, but now split-brained in turmoil about the piece of smoked turkey just begging to be licked up off the floor.

Slowly, almost tediously, Remy gets up from his perch at the base of his other owner’s feet, glances at Milo, lopes under the table, and laps up the smoked turkey. Milo’s butt and tail wriggle with excitement as he tries to manuever free from his owner’s adoring caresses, but does not act fast enough.

Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.