A Story Written By My Husband

Sometimes I can recall the golden year of my retirement: living in a comfortable home, dining in fine restaurants, traveling in search of adventure. During the second year of retirement my life would go to the dogs. It began the day my wife Karen saw a homeless man carrying a black puppy down the street. Always a person with great compassion for the less fortunate, Karen told the fellow he was not a fit owner for the animal. For twenty dollars, he was willing to part with the puppy, which turned out to be a breed not recognized by the American Kennel Club. Soon it became obvious the dog needed a companion other than me. Everytime we played tug of war he would dislodge my denture. The new companion was a yellow Labrator Retriever, a fun-loving eighty pound lap dog that would steal food out of my bowl before I could wolf it down. Then Karen rescued a scruffy mutt that was so ugly, the No-Kill Animal Shelter was going to make an exception. Then there was the ... I called them all The Pack.

Being mate to The Pack’s alpha leader, I did have some privileges; Karen permitted me to eat out of the porcelain bowl and sleep on the big bed. Actually, the bed was my only sanctuary because the dogs were not allowed on the bed. There was a concern their combined weight would crush the bed springs. Also there was the nightly scratching, licking, and howling. Such disgusting behavior disturbed the dogs, but I couldn’t help myself. When I did venture from my bed, I had to wear boots with thick soles. The floors were littered with doggie debris: chew dolls, squeak toys, slippers, ropes, rings, balls, and clothes. And after the daily feeding frenzies, The Pack would deposit their food dishes throughout the house. It was very startling when they dropped their steel dishes on the tile floor.... I empathize with combat veterans who have experienced shell shock. We could not invite anyone to enter our house because the insurance company threatened to cancel our liability coverage. Not that anyone wanted to enter.

As The Pack grew in number, Karen spent so much time on their feeding, exercising, and grooming activities, we had to abandon our social life. It wasn’t just the lack of available time, it was also the soaring expenses. The grooming tools alone included a 60-piece set of clippers, and an industrial appliance that could blow-dry a buffalo. So rather than file for bankruptcy, Karen decided to become a Professional Dog Groomer. She attended the Academy of Canine Styling , majoring in Bichon Frise and Cocker Spaniel. Previous experience grooming The Pack helped her graduate Magna Canis Laude. However, competing against truly experienced professionals proved to be ... dare I say ... a dog-eat-dog business. In order to attract a sophisticated clientele, Karen had to offer more than just a basic bath and groom. So her special services for dogs included: color highlighting; eyebrow, lip, and chin waxing; european facials, featuring micro dermabrasion; and sea spa pedicures.

Towards the end I still got treats for being a good boy, but all the commotion made me cranky and snappish. Finally, dog tired, I reported the situation to the SPCA. They have relocated me to an animal sanctuary where I now snooze in my shelter and frolic in the forest.