They Call It Puppy Love....

They call it puppy love....I guess my whole life I've been a dog person, not that I don't like cats, even had one. Didn't work out, ended for us one day when she decided to join us on my guest recliner one night while the whole family was gathered together watching a movie. It was really cute the way she hopped up on the chair did that turn around thing that cats do, you know where they bend completely in half, looks like one cat leaving and one cat coming. Cats are graceful, their moves are smooth and cool unlike dogs that are clumsy and manic, more like me, guess that's why I identify with them.

She sat like a sphinx looking at the TV like she was watching the movie, then her gaze moved to us, she looked down the couch at each person then the next, finally to me sitting in the bookend green recliner on the opposite side of the room. Our eyes met, we had a connection, on some level I was melding with this creature, we were having a moment. She sat up suddenly, never breaking eye contact, she leaned forward and I saw her tail stiffen, my expression changed from a sappy, coffee commercial grin to a look of wonder and denial. My eyebrows curled and my lips pursed as I had the realization of what was actually happening here. The cats chin raised in the air as I saw that look of relief on her face. My mouth fell open as this animal's own pulled up in the corners and I saw the face I had imagined in my head when my Mom read to me about the Cheshire cat in “Alice in Wonderland”.

“Is that cat doing what I think its doing!?” I yelled across the room, more at the cat than to anyone else. Like a Robert Palmer video, all heads in the room turned in unison from the TV to the cat on their right. Immediately, Chelsea released a knee jerk “Awwwww” that morphed into “Awwmmmgoddddd!!” Dotty did a Rodney Dangerfield double take, followed by a high pitched squeal. Shea's hands covered his mouth as his eyes popped wide in disbelief. Jimmy broke into a spontaneous bark of a laugh followed by a tapering chuckle with his right hand grabbing his chin.

This animal was pissing on my beautiful recliner, albeit the obstructed view seat, set off at the end of the couch, facing in to the room with the flat-screen to the right. It was the matching bookend to my throne. I thought of it as the deputy capital. I was planning on swapping them out every 6 months keeping the wear even, kind of like rotating tires on the caddy.

But that was all fading as the realization of what this feline intruder was doing to my property. I don't think I've ever really seen a cat piss before , let alone have I ever timed it but, this was epic. This thing had saved this up. Pushed herself through then pain of an overfilled bladder. Must have drank for 10 straight minutes to have that much liquid in store. I leaped up from my chair, well that's how my mind's eye remembers it, I'm sure it was much less graceful and filled with a lot of grunts and the occasional wheeze.

As I walked the 7 feet from one end of the couch to the other, I saw her squeezing out the last of her foul juice. I could see it like a chemical runoff stream running down the seat of the chair and disappearing into the crack where it meets the back. She looked up at me as I stood over her and gave me a half hearted “meeeeeooueerrr” I raised my right hand high in the air as a baritone growl started deep in my diaphragm. It knew I wasn't happy and it made a hasty retreat to the railing on the stairs and around the corner to the boys room to hide amongst the rubble of dirty clothes and other assorted clutter strewn about. I ranted for at least 15 minutes as I flipped the chair over and attacked the polluted stream with Lysol, ammonia, fabreeze and several rolls of paper towels.

The whole time my trusted buddy, Bear, our giant Golden Retriever was lying on the floor facing us watching us watch the TV as well as the events that were unfolding in front of him. I heard him sigh when she came in the room as if he knew the quiet family moment was about to end, in his head he was saying to himself “Here we go.....”

My Bear is a unique animal, living here I would expect no less. He is a Golden Retriever thus making him a water-dog. Long before “Marley and Me” was even made, my bear was running straight through my Mom and Dads house, out their back door and into the lake. Nonstop, no passing go, no collecting $200, directly to the lake. He has his perch on the steps in my pool.

Everyday in the summer, its the same routine. He wakes up at around 11am comes downstairs from under my bed where he squeezes his giant ass under every night. He stomps when he walks so I never know if its him or Dotty coming down the stairs . He greets me first, rubbing his nose under my wrist and flips my hand on top of his head. I give him a scratch and slide my hand around to under his chin and give him a good rub. He just loves that. I ask him if he wants to go out and his front paws lift off the ground and he changes directions while they are airborne.

He shuffles to the sliding door in the kitchen as I repeat every morning, “Get the squirrel buddy get the squirrel!!” His ass bumps in the air and he puts his face close to the ground as his tail wags frantically from side to side. I slide the door open and when just enough room is available he charges forward and squeezes his huge body through the opening. Off he bolts looking for the furry bastards, darting left and right, looking like Belushi in Animal House. I love watching the routine as I sip my morning brew.

He does his business, which reminds me its been a few days since I've grabbed a shovel, and then directly to the pool. First he sits of the deck and puts his front paws in the pool on the first step. He does this for about 10 minutes, then he jumps in, swims to the middle and then returns to the steps. He sits on the second and third with his head out the water for next 20 minutes to two hours.

Since the kids got older its Bear and I's pool we are the only ones that use it daily. Me for therapy on the old knee and Bear, well that's just his spot. The only problem with Bear's water-sports is he likes to get out wet and go lay under the deck which is mostly that sandy, black south jersey dirt. It sticks to him everywhere and the only way to get it off is to once again jump in the pool.

This makes Dotty, the pool Nazi, crazy. She has her morning rituals as well which is always someway connected to the pool. She vacuums it, shocks it, maintains it really. I swim in it. We had to stack up all kinds of stuff to keep him from being able to get under the deck. Lounge chairs, playground balls, resin lawn furniture, at first glance it looks like a tornado hit my yard. But its just keeping my boy clean.

My Bear is always under my feet, he thinks he's a lap dog but weighs about 120lbs. He's afraid of almost everything, lightning, thunder, fireworks, my Dolby 5.1 all the usual dog stuff. But this dog is afraid of string. If I lay a 2x4 down on the ground he won't step over it. If his tennis ball rolls too close to his arch nemesis the red rug he won't do anything but stare at it with the occasional whine. He loves to be near me, to touch me to hang out and play with me. Nobody, not my wife, not my kids, not my parents want to spend as much time with me as he does. He truly is this mans best friend.