Funny Guy Friday... So far, so good with the Rock Star...

     Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband, Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     So... it has been about three months with the new dog, and things are going just swimmingly.
     Just to bring everyone up to speed, Cheryl had said no, no, no, no, no... never! She was a one-woman wrecking-ball of my children's hopes and dreams. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but she was the only thing standing between them and a dog.
     Then my nephew found a dog, and in a single moment of weakness she allowed the poor lost thing into the house for a weekend "test drive."
     Of course, he's still with us.
     He's been neutered, so there is a little less of him with us now than when he first arrived, but it was for his own good. At least, I keep telling myself that it was for his own good.
     Rocky is now part of the family, and we all have our little Rocky-related routines.
     Matthew and I, mainly, walk him, and as part of our walks... we get to clean up after him. And by clean up after him, I mean exactly what you think I mean.
     As part of my duties, or doo-doo doodies, if you will, I puppy-talk like an idiot. For example...
     Is Rockhead my good pooper boy? or...
     Are you a pooper boy today, Rock Star? or...
     You're a poopie, poopie, pooper, Mr. Rock and Roll.
     He went twice on the same walk last week (a double doodie), and this qualified as a big event in my life... my poor, sad, pathetic life.
     Gracie is in charge of treats.
     She wants Rocky to like her so much that she gives him a treat every time she sees him... then she complains because he is getting too fat.
     Noah is the worrier.
     I think Noah is very cognizant of how Rocky came into our lives: he ran away from his real family!! Mistakenly, Cheryl thinks that Rocky is sooo happy with his new home that he would never think of running away. This, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Rocky, like Hussein Bolt, is always looking to run.
     Cheryl doesn't help Noah out very much with his worrying. In fact, more often than not, she is the reason he worries. The other day, she left the front door open, and when Noah complained that Rocky was going to run, she told him, If he runs, he runs, I have to live my life!
     Funny thing is, we lived our life behind closed doors for many years before Rocky entered our home. Now, all of the sudden, Cheryl needs to feel the rush of the wind on her face while standing in our foyer... and by doing so, she tortures our youngest child with her newfound relationship with nature.
     Which brings me to Cheryl.
     She loves Rocky more than everyone else in the family.
     To be clear... I don't mean that she loves Rocky more than I love Rocky... or more than Noah, Matthew or Grace loves Rocky... although she does. I mean that she loves Rocky more than she loves me... or Noah... or Matthew... or Grace.
     She snuggles with him. She sweet-talks him. She feeds him. And she trains him. She used to do all that stuff with me. Now I get nothing but the training part! However, I must admit that getting a treat every time I hang up one of my suits is quite an enticing reward.
     I may be mistaken, but I could swear that I saw Cheryl lick Rocky's face the other morning.
     No dogs ever, she said. Uh-huh.
     We often wonder what Rocky's life was like before he came into our home.
     Cheryl has created several scenarios that are, in my humble opinion, delusional.
     For example, Rocky reacts to sirens... like thousands of other dogs... so Cheryl thinks he was a fire dog. Or Rocky responds to whistles... like thousands of other dogs... so Cheryl thinks that he was a trained hunter. I hate to break the news to Cheryl but he chases every squirrel he sees. Not sure that would work real well out in the woods... where the squirrels tend to congregate.
     We often ask Rocky if he misses his old home.
     We know he can't answer (at least most of us know he can't answer; Cheryl still holds a verbal response out as a possibility), but if he could talk, I think that he might tell us... I do like my new home... I just wish that I could have kept all of my body parts... if you know what I mean!       
     Hey Rocky... In the off-chance that you are as brilliant as Cheryl thinks you are... and your previous owners taught you how to read... that neutering thing was Cheryl's idea, not mine.
     I had said no, no, no, no, no... never!