Monday, March 09, 2009

Dog Days

Let me preface this story by saying that my son is the most sensitive, sweet and loving little boy in the universe. Seriously. I mean, look at him. The eyes, the dimples, the smile. Look at his little finger and you'll see me (and some other people) firmly wrapped around it.



Once upon a time, this little angel loved him some animals. We have pictures of him snuggling up to puppies, cats, rabbits, horses, tiger cubs (not really) you name it. His little heart had room for all of them. His favorite toy was a stuffed border collie named Douglas that went every where he did. I was actually concerned we were going to have to end up getting some form of a furry pet just to satisfy him (click here and here to read about our past pet experience). That is, until this moved in next door.

About five seconds after this moved in next door, our world changed. Why? Because this elephant of a dog came racing out of it's new home baring its 6 inch razor-sharp teeth (not really), jumped over some 6 foot tall hedges (not really) and proceeded to knock a 3 year old Ethan to the ground (really). Ethan's world view of animals changed from that day forward. No longer did he want to pet our neighbor's dogs that would stop to pee on our mailbox. No more snuggling with Uncle James' puppies. In fact, wailing would ensue just upon spotting a dog, even if he was safely ensconced inside a vehicle. Now, 3 years later we are still dealing with the trauma he suffered that fateful day. Is that therapy I smell? Probably. Anyway, I digress. For the last 3 years every time we go to someone's house his first question is "Do they have a dog?" and if the answer is affirmative the child will not get out of the car until he has been assured that the monstrous beast has been constrained in some manner. Most of our friends already know to do this before we pull in the driveway. He will still linger in the front yard until we give him the all clear. Last night we were going to our friends' house and the predictable scenario played itself out. We go in and Randy goes back out to inform Ethan that Flick is put away. Flick is a 14 year old Jack Russell terrier who couldn't care less about Ethan or anyone else for that matter. Ethan is a little hesitant so Randy tells him again "Flick's been taken care of, son." Suddenly Ethan's little angelic face lights up and he looks up at his dad with is face full of hope and says...

"You mean...he's dead?"

Funny how sensitivity dissipates in the face of full-blown terror.