Tomorrow is Milo’s fourth “Gotcha Day” with us! I wrote a little essay about him on his second, and a poem for him on his third. Digging through some old computer files, recently, I found something I’d written a couple of months after we got him, that will suffice as this year’s celebratory post:
Much as I often type “teh” instead of “the,” I’ve discovered–since the arrival of Milo, our adorable mixed-breed rescue dog–that I usually type “god” when I mean “dog.” I always manage to notice this and correct it, usually with an obscure feeling of guilt. However, if I hadn’t, here are some of the things I would have written in various e-mails to friends in the past month:
• If you’re really not up for having a god in the house along with the new baby that’s perfectly okay.
• He is a great god, bra fetish notwithstanding.
• And we have a new god, who is a constant source of puzzlement and delight, and who appears to find us much the same.
• He’s a gentle god but “calm” is not a word I would use to describe him.
• We are working on “quiet god” right now.
• My husband and my god like each other.
• If anyone is afraid of or allergic to gods be assured that he will be crated and upstairs during our meeting. If anyone likes gods you can go meet him after we’ve concluded our business.
• The important question is how are you doing these days, and the really important question is when are you going to come admire my new god?
• And can I force you all to admire the attached picture of my new god, bravely defending us against an evil, scary bunch of bananas?
• He doesn’t feel the need to mark his territory as male gods often do.
• On the upside, I LOVE MY NEW GOD! He is the BEST god ever and we just signed the adoption papers today.
Happy Gotcha Day, little man. While your humans are cavorting in Italy, you are staying with a friend in the country, and I hope you are having a wonderful time. We are probably looking at all of the Italian dogs and saying to ourselves, and sometimes each other, “That dog’s not as cute as Milo.” You remain a source of puzzlement and delight to us, and it appears we remain so to you, as well.
And here, for anyone who cares to see it, is the picture of Milo the second night we had him, defending his new home against that sleeper cell of terrorist bananas (he’d been barking at them, so we put them on the floor and let him investigate):