Funny Guy Friday... No dogs. Well... maybe a dog...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     The answer is no... No... No... No! We will never have another one!
     They're dirty.
     They're stinky.
     They shed.
     And they have that less-than-wonderful breath.  
     No, I am not talking about our kids... I am talking about dogs.
     Cheryl has been steadfast in her refusal to even consider a dog.
     When we were first married, I had a beautiful Golden Retriever, Justice. Justice was the best... dog... ever! I said sit, he sat. I said stay, he stayed. I said come, he came. When I locked myself out of the house, Justice would open the door for me. No lie. He was that good.
     Then Justice sired several puppies and we took the runt of the litter. Mind you, Justice was a big Retriever, a very fit 90 pounds. The runt was about 70 pounds. And as smart as Justice was... Quincy was that stupid.  I said sit, Quincy would lick himself. I said stay, Quincy licked himself. I said come, Quincy licked himself. When I left the house, Quincy locked me out.
     He was cute... but he was a dope.
     Unfortunately, both dogs got cancer and had to be put down. Cheryl swore that there would be no more dogs in the house. There have been a few moments of weakness where she would consider it... for a second... a brief second... but then quickly return to the No Dog Ever policy.
     Friends of ours got a little CavaPoo over the summer. Our kids thought it was the cutest little dog and put on the full court press. Unfortunately for them, Cheryl is very adept at breaking the press. Although, I will say, that fluffy little rat of a dog seemed to soften Cheryl's stance just a bit.
     Recently, my nephew and his wife went to see a movie. When they left the theater, they found a dog that seemed to be lost. If I found a dog that seemed to be lost, I would say, Hey that dog looks like he's lost... Did you enjoy the movie? My nephew and his wife, on the other hand, chased down the pooch and took him home. This was no small feat as my nephew had recently torn his ACL... and his wife is 8 1/2 months pregnant. Think about that for a second... the two of them hobbling and wobbling after that stray mutt. That, in and of itself, is kind of funny.
     They put out an APB on facebook... and made every effort to find the owner, or alternatively, a home for the dog. The facebook post prompted Gracie to text me to see if we could claim him. Gracie, of course, knows that her mother is the Maginot Line in doggie defense. Nobody is getting a dog unless they can somehow get it past Mom.
     Not wanting to throw Cheryl under the bus, I texted back, No problem... as long as Mom says it's okay. I look like a hero, and Cheryl gets all the blame. Look, the bus only wounded her, it did not kill her.
     Staying true to form, Cheryl did not bend. No dogs!
     A few more days went by and my nephew was back on facebook as well as communicating with Grace. If they could not find a home, he would have to go to the pound, as they already have two dogs. Grace and the boys really wanted to take one last shot at getting this dog. After a drive with Grace, Cheryl emerged from the vehicle a bit upset. She called me outside and broke down about how everybody wants this dog... and she does not like being the bad guy. But you are the bad guy! 
     I didn't say it, but I didn't have to.
     What I did say was... That's not true, I am on your team, I don't want this dog. 
     I, of course, was playing both ends against the middle. My kids love me because I want the dog and Cheryl loves me because I don't want the dog. I just have to figure out how to keep the kids and Cheryl out of the same room for the next fifteen years and this little secret will be safe.
     I came up with the perfect solution: Let's get the dog for a weekend and see how we do. Take him for a test drive, if you will.
     Surprisingly, this was not immediately shot down.
     She blinked.
     Cheryl blinked and the kids had her right where they wanted her.
     I called my nephew, and as luck would have it, they had just taken the dog to the pound that day. He thought he might be able to go the next day to retrieve him, but he was not sure. Fortunately, his wife had had second thoughts about leaving him at the pound, so she was there the next morning as soon as the place opened to re-retrieve the puppy, now commonly referred to as Rocky.     
     Joseph and his wife Jess dropped Rocky off at our house the next day.
     When they walked through the front door, the first thing that struck me was his size. When I said we were taking him for a test drive, I didn't know he'd be as big as a car.
     We're not sure, but we believed him to be part Black Labrador Retriever with traces of Rottweiler... a Rotten Retriever, if you will. Turns out the vet said he's all lab.
     He seemed confused at first, not knowing if this were his home or not. We all seemed a bit confused, not knowing if this were his home or not. Fortunately, none of us lifted our leg and piddled all over the furniture.
     Rocky is a beautiful dog with some minor defects like helping himself to a comfy spot on our couch. That little issue is magnified because he smells more like a dog than most dogs. If you don't believe us, ask the girl that groomed him and told Cheryl that even after his bath, she was still getting a whiff of barn!  
     What to do. What to do.
     It's only been a week, so no final decisions have been made.
     The positives are that Rocky has a very pleasant disposition, and he appears to have learned the rules of our home pretty quickly: no begging, no barking, no whining, and no messing with our stuff. We are a bit disappointed that we didn't use similar training methods on our kids.
     Cheryl read that dogs like to be led... they enjoy an Alpha male. We took a family vote and I won 3-2... which is kind of impressive because I voted for Cheryl.
     The biggest negative is that we really have no idea about his history. What is the exact mix of dog breed? Because of his size, was either parent a horse? Was he abused? Has he ever been trained and if so, what methods were used? Does he have a kill word that we don't know about? You can see how that could be a concern, can't you?
     Here's the bottom line...
     He's dirty.
     He stinks.
     He sheds.
     But he is good and he is loving.
     He may just fit right in.