Originally published May
7, 1998 in the weekly Mountain News, Lake Arrowhead, Calif., when I was editor of it.
by Matt Proietti
by Matt Proietti
The
youngest member of our family had her public coming out at the Locals' Nite
party Friday in Lake Arrowhead Village.
She held court as the disc jockey played "YMCA" and people did the Macarena and the Chicken Dance. Friends came by and raved about her looks and good disposition, not to mention her shiny coat and perky tail.
Rocket -- our new puppy, 3 1/2 pounds of wonderment and love -- enjoys the limelight, it seems.
Now, I was against getting a dog for several reasons.
"We're gone a lot," I pleaded. "It's not right to get a dog and then leave it behind while we're off somewhere having a good time."
"We'll take it with us," said my wife, Vee.
"I hate people who take their dogs everywhere. They smell."
"Our dog won't. She'll be clean."
"I meant the owners."
"Oh," Vee said. "Well, we won't smell."
"We will. And we don't need any more dogs in our neighborhood. There's too many running around loose already."
"We'll get a house dog, a small one."
"Just get a hamster or a guinea pig if you want something for the house. Or fish."
She'd have none of it.
"They're not cuddly and full of love like a puppy."
"What about our two cats? There's bound to be problems."
"They'll be fine. You'll see."
"And who's going to clean up all of the messes? Not me."
After these intelligent arguments, I still lost my case. But in my defense, I was set up by my wife. She surprised me at the office with a ball of fur who came complete with a sad story.
Family friend Steve Caro was driving in Hesperia when a vehicle in front of him pulled to the side of the road and tossed out something. Two somethings, actually: our new pet and a male pup. Steve pulled over, picked them up and, three days later, we had a dog.
"So we have to keep her," Vee said. "She needs us."
I relented.
"OK. You win. She is cute," I admitted.
At the Lake Arrowhead Village party, Rocket J. Puppy made quick friends, especially with toddlers. And there's nothing in the world cuter than a little dog and a 2-year-old child sizing up each other.
There's also nothing in the world as pathetic as adults engaging in puppy talk, like when she's done her business on newspaper spread on the floor. I’m as bad as anyone.
"She made a nice doodie, baby," I call out to Vee. "That's a nice doodie! You've got to see it. Come here! Look at that doodie!"
She held court as the disc jockey played "YMCA" and people did the Macarena and the Chicken Dance. Friends came by and raved about her looks and good disposition, not to mention her shiny coat and perky tail.
Rocket -- our new puppy, 3 1/2 pounds of wonderment and love -- enjoys the limelight, it seems.
Now, I was against getting a dog for several reasons.
"We're gone a lot," I pleaded. "It's not right to get a dog and then leave it behind while we're off somewhere having a good time."
"We'll take it with us," said my wife, Vee.
"I hate people who take their dogs everywhere. They smell."
"Our dog won't. She'll be clean."
"I meant the owners."
"Oh," Vee said. "Well, we won't smell."
"We will. And we don't need any more dogs in our neighborhood. There's too many running around loose already."
"We'll get a house dog, a small one."
"Just get a hamster or a guinea pig if you want something for the house. Or fish."
She'd have none of it.
"They're not cuddly and full of love like a puppy."
"What about our two cats? There's bound to be problems."
"They'll be fine. You'll see."
"And who's going to clean up all of the messes? Not me."
After these intelligent arguments, I still lost my case. But in my defense, I was set up by my wife. She surprised me at the office with a ball of fur who came complete with a sad story.
Family friend Steve Caro was driving in Hesperia when a vehicle in front of him pulled to the side of the road and tossed out something. Two somethings, actually: our new pet and a male pup. Steve pulled over, picked them up and, three days later, we had a dog.
"So we have to keep her," Vee said. "She needs us."
I relented.
"OK. You win. She is cute," I admitted.
At the Lake Arrowhead Village party, Rocket J. Puppy made quick friends, especially with toddlers. And there's nothing in the world cuter than a little dog and a 2-year-old child sizing up each other.
There's also nothing in the world as pathetic as adults engaging in puppy talk, like when she's done her business on newspaper spread on the floor. I’m as bad as anyone.
"She made a nice doodie, baby," I call out to Vee. "That's a nice doodie! You've got to see it. Come here! Look at that doodie!"
You’ve got to see it?
Technically, a "nice" doodie is any that isn't my wife's slipper or waiting for my bare foot at 5:30 a.m. We're more forgiving of the nasty little land mines in the light of day when we can see them.
Vee is quick to compliment Rocket for the slightest achievement, like pouncing when Vee moves her foot under the bed covers.
"You're a good girl, yes you are. Yes, you are," she says. "You're such a good girl!"
And when the pooch is pooped, Vee coaxes her to sleep.
"Hers so tired. Hers just wants to go sound seepy. It's OK, honey. You go sound seepy."
Technically, a "nice" doodie is any that isn't my wife's slipper or waiting for my bare foot at 5:30 a.m. We're more forgiving of the nasty little land mines in the light of day when we can see them.
Vee is quick to compliment Rocket for the slightest achievement, like pouncing when Vee moves her foot under the bed covers.
"You're a good girl, yes you are. Yes, you are," she says. "You're such a good girl!"
And when the pooch is pooped, Vee coaxes her to sleep.
"Hers so tired. Hers just wants to go sound seepy. It's OK, honey. You go sound seepy."
Sound seepy?
The cats are the only ones to have resisted the puppy's charms. One has whacked her twice for violating her personal space. The other -- a tough hombre who once fought his way free from the jaws of a coyote -- is afraid of the new resident, actually walking in reverse when the puppy comes in close for a look.
And, for some reason, fights between the felines have ceased. I think they've called a truce while they plan a way to get rid of the dog.
Fat chance of that happening, kitties.
The cats are the only ones to have resisted the puppy's charms. One has whacked her twice for violating her personal space. The other -- a tough hombre who once fought his way free from the jaws of a coyote -- is afraid of the new resident, actually walking in reverse when the puppy comes in close for a look.
And, for some reason, fights between the felines have ceased. I think they've called a truce while they plan a way to get rid of the dog.
Fat chance of that happening, kitties.
