Friday, August 12, 2011

I Just Called to Say...

I can't get Stevie Wonder's iconic song out of my head.  You see, my dad called yesterday.  If you'll recall, he was not the biggest fan of us bringing home a new dog in the beginning.  {You're not keeping it, right?}  But over the past year, Lucy and Dad have both worked very hard on coming to terms with each other.  Dad has really worked on letting his grown kids make their own decisions, and not being a harping parent (thanks, Dad).  Lucy's approach is rooted in that innate sense many animals possess to seek out the person(s) in the room who do not like them.  The mission is simple: Seek and Subjugate.  You will {love} me!

Have you seen this before?  Maybe you're not a dog person, but every time you visit friends who have dogs, the canines find you irresistible?  They park themselves in front of you until you acknowledge their existence, then follow you around until you leave or concede that you may, indeed, like love them too.  Or perhaps you are the pet owner, and you have found yourself staring in helpless horror as your furry friend ardently pines for your least pet-simpatico acquaintance?

Both my parents exemplify kindness towards all creatures.  My mom is always an instant hit with just about any animal she meets.  She just has that gift.  Though my dad's approach may be different, he is just as compassionate.  He is, however, a big dog kinda guy.  He and Jack and Indy are good buds.  He and Lucy, however, needed a little cajoling.  That's where Lucy's instincts kicked in.

In the beginning, every time we'd see my folks, Lucy would run right over to Dad, then tail him for the rest of the day.  He would do his best to admonish selective attention upon the big dogs.  When it would be time for my parents to go home, Lucy literally would cry until he came back and petted her in acknowledgement.  Satisfied with her plan to conquer the world(or run for Congress), she'd peaceably return to the yard.  She was relentless.

Over the past several months I have noticed a softer side to my dad, a former BIG dog person - not unlike myself.  Lucy is now acknowledged affectionately, if not somewhat sparingly.  Dad may not have crossed over completely to the world of little dog appreciation, but he's skirting the perimeter.  That brings us to the call.

Yesterday, my Dad called.  I love it when he does.  He often has good tips to share or things that he read and wanted to pass along, which always lets me know he was thinking of me, or the kids, or Ken, or the big dogs.  It's a great feeling.  Yesterday's call was actually about Lucy.  He had watched a show the previous night where a little dog went a little nuts after having eaten chicken.  He wanted to see if I had ever heard of that happening, and if maybe a call to the Vet would be a good idea.  Just to make sureWe wouldn't want any harm to befall Lucy, of course. 

I just smiled.  Well, I also Googled "chicken" and "little/small dogs" and was satisfied the writers of that particular show had taken creative liberties for their story line seeing as how many brands of dog food specifically for little dogs are, in fact, chicken.  {the bones are a no-no for any dog... too brittle and splintery}  I think we're good. 

Dad, I love you.  Lucy loves ya, too.  Thanks for calling.
From the bottom of my heart...



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