Eulogy For A Bad Dog. Bad Dog.

I always wanted a cat. They’re independent, sneaky, and even a little mean. In some unexplainable way, I like that. I didn’t just want any old everyday cat, I wanted a female cat. The more complicated the better. Finally I got one. A legendary 6 pound chihuahua named Bunny. Today we laid her to rest.

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She belonged to my wife at first. I used to sneak her food when my wife and I were dating. I thought this was a surefire way to make Bunny like me but my thinking was all wrong. That’s how you get a typical dog to like you. However, this was no ordinary dog. She was a bad dog. A very bad dog. From the day I met her till the day she died, she tried to bite me and everyone associated with me. Off the top of my head I can remember her biting my good friends Doc, Buss, Eel, Captain America, and A.D. She went after the ankles of our neighbors, the mailman, an elderly man at a park, and the pizza guy. She hated the fucking pizza guy. She was also a pee-er. I think she pee’d on everything I owned. She pee’d on the carpet. She pee’d on the couch. She pee’d on my shoes and on the rare occasion in them. She pee’d on my playstation controller. She pee’d in the bottom pouch of Donny’s stroller. One morning I thought she had magically found away to pee in my locker at the gym. Later I would realize she just pee’d in my gym bag to save herself the trip. She didn’t just target me. We also have a 70 pound pit bull labrador mix named Domino. She made him her bitch from day one. She bit him on the nose, she pee’d on his bed, she even ate his food. Sometimes, when the mood hit her just right, she’d skip right over and hump him. He never made her stop. She was a bad dog and he knew it. Best to just let the alpha dog take what’s hers. If there was a baddest dog in America contest she would win Best In Show every year.

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When you’ve lived with a bad dog for so long you start to think life would be better without them, until they’re  gone. I realize the reason she was so bad is because she was so good…at being bad. Like that one time she bit my friend Buss. She didn’t bite him because of anger issues or aggressive behavior. She bit him because he was play fighting with Domino and she always protected her bitches. When my buddy Eel was dog-sitting she didn’t find a way to unzip and go through his backpack just to be annoying. She did it because she knew pot brownie’s were delicious and she liked to party. Needless to say, he was never allowed to dog-sit for us again. And I know she didn’t pee under the covers of my bed that one time because she wanted to be an asshole. She…actually I think she just wanted to be an asshole. But that’s the point. Being bad was her business and business was good. And I’m going to miss her.

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I’m going to miss how she would follow Donny around the house whenever he had a snack. Eventually jumping up to snatch it out of his hand.

“No Bunny. Leave him alone, bad girl”

I’m going to miss her burying herself in clean laundry fresh out the dryer.

“No Bunny. Get out of there, bad girl.”

I’m going to miss telling her to get off of the couch.

“No Bunny. You have your own bed, bad girl.”

But mostly, I’m going to miss sharing cheez-it’s with her once everyone went to sleep.

“Hey good girl, shhh. Don’t tell.”

I’m going to miss her heart. It was that of a German Shepherd, always on guard, barking at the front door.

“That’s a good girl! Let em` know you in here.”

I’m going to miss her laying on my lap, like she did one last time tonight.

“I’m sorry good girl. I wish we could have done more. Shared one more snack. Taken one more walk.”

I always wanted a cat. Instead I got a really small dog. I miss her already. When she awakens her next life will begin. I bet she’ll be a tiger. Or maybe a leopard. I’m sure it will be something grand. Or maybe she’ll be something she’s good at, like a chihuahua. A bad one. The only thing I know for sure is that her spirit will live with me forever. Because good or bad, a legend never dies.

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My Chick Bad

Thursday started like any other day, but ended like no thursday before it. Taking the dog out at night is my job seven days a week. So when Mommy Moneybags(MM) randomly decided to relieve me of that duty Thursday night, I should have been suspicious. I was not. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the merciless beating I was giving her in gin rummy. When I began to wonder what was taking her so long I heard our dog bark, then yelp, then whine. I jumped up from my seat and hurried to the door fist clenched and prepared to defend my woman. I was panicking a little. I always trust my dog to protect my family when I’m not around. He’s a 80 pound pit bull mix with the bark of a lion. Yes, I understand lions are cats but I’m trying to paint a picture here. He’s a wild animal. An untammed beast. Something or someone outside had reduced him to a squirrel. As soon as I reached the door a tall shadowy figure emerged. The first thing I noticed were his weapons. Numerous metallic canes tucked behind him in a bag. He also carried another bag that he dragged behind him on wheels. Similar to a rolling suitcase. Exactly like a rolling suitcase. It was a rolling suitcase. Then I saw his face. The evil smirking face of my best friend, Doc. At that point everything became a blur of shock and confusion. I stood there with my mouth open babbling trying to make sense of why he was at my front door at 10PM on a Thursday 500 miles from home. Before my brain could put together anything close to an intelligent sentence MM handed me an envelope. It was an early Father’s day card. Inside was a golf resort reservation confirmation. Tucked behind that was a golf reservation for Saturday, and behind that a reservation for Sunday. All for two.  MM and Doc were in cahoots! The following morning she sent us on our way with my favorite spirit and a smile. Happy (early) Father’s day indeed!

I keep asking her why she did this for me? Why is she so damn good to me? I would have been happy with a tie. A nice lunch. A pan of her moist delicious banana bread would have been sufficient. Her response has remained the same, “because you deserve it.” This is my wife. She’s smart, kind, she’s completely selfless.  The only one she seems more devoted to than me is our son. And she can bake a mean banana bread! My chick is bad! We may not have the most money, or toughest dogs, and certainly nothing resembling a cool active social life, but we have each other. I have her. I can’t imagine a life better than this one.

This past weekend I didn’t change Donny’s diapers. Not once, for three whole days. I didn’t mix up a bottle, I didn’t clean up a mess, and the only clothes I changed were my own. I did play golf, poorly. I also ate my food while it was hot, drove fast, and drank too much for three whole days. Last weekend I was not living the Dadlife. I was living the fun irresponsible life of my 20s. I imagine there’s some Dad out there reading this and wondering how this Dad could be so lucky. It’s actually really simple; marry the greatest wife in the world.

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THREE THINGS:

  1. Thing I learned today – Size doesn’t matter. Donny’s six tiny teeth feel like a full-grown piranha on my finger.
  2. MM likes to dump her sweaty gym bag out on the couch in the morning and leave it there. We were made for each other.
  3. Sports Minute – Heat in 7 but I don’t feel good about it.

Thank you very much for stopping by. This is the third and completely unplanned edition of Daddy Day By Day. I’ll try to have another one out for Father’s Day but it might be little late. If you have any questions, rants, feelings, anything positive, please feel free to email me at daddydaybyday@gmail.com or simply comment below. Talk to you soon…