“A boy needs a dog,” I heard my dad tell my mom as I pressed my face against my bedroom door. I had spent all of dinner explaining to them why we need a dog.
“A dog will protect us and he can watch me when you can’t find a sitter and I promise I’ll feed him and clean up after him and dogs are cute!” My mom looked at me like I was the cutest, saddest little thing she’d ever seen. My dad would try to get a word in from time-to-time, but I wouldn’t let him because I knew he was going to say, “no” without really giving it any real thought. “And dogs are cuddly and soft and …”
So I was sent to bed a little early so they could “talk about it.”
“Really, you promise you’re really gonna talk ‘bout it?”
“Yeah, kid, we promise we’ll talk about it. That does not mean we’re promising you a dog, understand?” I stood there in my Minions pajamas contemplating what my dad had just said for a moment and said, “okay. But dogs are really the best…”
“I SAID WE’LL TALK ABOUT IT! Now go to bed, I love you.”
“C’mon, I’ll tuck you in,” mom said. She took me by the hand into my room. I climbed into bed and she pulled my blankets up to my chin, smiled and kissed my forehead. “A dog is lot of responisbility you know.”
“I know, but I promise, promise, PROMISE to take care of him!”
She looked around at the mess that was my room. Toys littering the floor. What was once a pile of Legos that may have been a castle or gas station or some other building that was struck by a wrecking ball. “Like you take care of your toys?”
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say. Mom was right, but it still hurt. I made a promise to myself to clean my room tomorrow. “If I get a dog, mommy, I promise you’ll never have to ask me to clean my room.”
She took me into her arms and squeezed me. “I’m sure you will, mijo, but you still might be a little too young.”
“I’m not!”
“Lemme talk to your daddy and we’ll see, okay?”
As soon as she left my room and closed the door I scampered acroos my bed and hovered over the foot with my face pressed against the door crack.
“Why does a boy need a dog? Are you sure it isn’t you who just wants a dog?”
I hadn’t even considered that my dad might want a dog. As long as he understood that it would be my dog.
“Maybe I do. Would it be so bad? He’s a smart boy.”
“Yeah, but he is a little boy. He isn’t even a teenager yet.” I felt betrayed by my own mother. I wanted to run out of my room and beg, but my dad’s next words stopped me.
“I want my little boy to grow up with a puppy. Who cares if he’s ready? Were you ready to be a mom?”
“No.”
“But look at you now. I have never met a better, more loving, compassionate, fierce mother in my life. He is his mother’s son; he’ll be amazing with a dog because he’s just like his mama.”
I heard my mom sniffle like she was crying.
Why would my mommy be crying, I wondered.
“You’re not fighting fair you know,” she said to my dad.
“Well, if you weren’t so amazing I wouldn’t be so well armed.”
I heard kissing noises. Eww, I thought. I jumped back into bed and covered my ears with my pillow to erase the sounds of my parents being gross.
I ran out of bed the next morning. It was a Saturday so they were both home. Dad was in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Where’s mommy?”
“She’s…”
“Did you decide I can have a dog?!”
“… in the shower. Come and eat some breakfast.”
“Can I?”
“Nothing was decided last night, mijo. So come and eat let’s have a chat.” Dad was using his firm, don’t talk back voice so I knew better than to say anything more. I stood at the edge of the kitchen counter while he poured me a bowl of cereal and milk.
“Can I – may I have some orange juice?”
“Half a glass or full?”
“Half! Please.”
Go sit at the table and I’ll bring it to you. I did as told and watched him. He put down my bowl of cereal glass of orange juice in front of me then took the seat across from me. I shoved a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.
“A dog is a huge responsibility. I need to know that you’re ready for it, so here’s what you’re going to do for me,” he said in his dad voice. I put my spoon down and stopped chewing so I could listen.
“Chew your food, mijo.”
Crunch, crunch, crunch, swallow.
“You’re going to show us that you’re a responsible young man. I need to see that your room is kept clean without us having to get on you about it. And you’re going to start doing chores around the house. I think taking the garbage out and loading the dishwasher are something you can handle, yeah?” he asked in that dad way that let me know it was not negotiable.
“Yessir.”
“You show us you can do all that for awhile – do not ask how long – and then we can discuss you getting a dog, okay?”
“But, dad…”
“NO ‘BUT DAD.’ It’s this or no dog.”
“Okay,” I said in my mopiest voice.
Mom down the hallway in her robe, towel-drying her long black hair. She saw the look on my face and said, “I’m guessing daddy told you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She looked at dad, “ohhhh, he’s ma’am-ing me. This is serious,” as she scooped me into her arms. I wanted to be mad at her, but I needed her comfort more. She pulled my head to her shoulder. I could feel her damp hair on my cheek, the smell of her fruity shampoo filling my lungs. “It’s okay to be disappointed for a little while, mijo. But then you need to dust yourself off and get to work showing us that you can handle some responsibility, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And in-between chores maybe start doing some research on the kind of dog you want.”
Part Two tomorrow
