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Copyright 2011 by Dave Nasser
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the authors intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the authors rights.
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ISBN 978-1-4555-2508-9
To my wife, Christie
Arizona Daily Star
Offered: Pets
HOME NEEDED FOR GREAT DANE PUPPY
Four-month-old blue Great Dane puppy needs
a home now. Call Dave at 555-0123.
Sometimes in life you make mistakes. It was the end of March 2006 in Tucson, Arizonaa particularly beautiful time of yearand open in front of me was a copy of the Arizona Daily Star. It was carrying the ad Id placed there a week back, for the ridiculous sum of $40.
I did a quick calculation in my head. Id already laid out $1,750 for our puppy, plus the cost of around six weeks worth of special puppy food, an extra-large crate, a leash and a collar, dog bowlsboth food and waterand now this ad. We were a cool $2,000 out-of-pocket by now, I figured, but I didnt care. I was out of patience. I was seriously stressed. I was at the end of my rope.
The ad had already attracted about a dozen phone calls, and two of them seemed to be genuine possibilities. One was from a woman who worked at the local animal organization in Tucson. When I explained to her that George had become a lot more than I could handle, she reacted excitedly. It was obvious right away that she was a serious dog lover, and she wanted our puppy pretty badly. The other call was from a guy who lived a couple of hours away, up in Phoenix. He said he already had a couple of Great Danes in the family, and would very much love to have a third.
So, job done. With my wifes very reluctant agreement, I had one decision left to make: who should have him? Whose home should he go to? George, who was never far from Christie and meeverwas sitting on the floor beside my chair while I was thinking about this, as if he knew that, right now, it was the best place for him to be. I glanced down, and saw the sparkle in his intensely blue eyes. It was the same sparkle that had first attracted us to him, the same sparkle that had Christie fall in love with him on sight. Did he know? Was he already preparing for the worst? Was he already resigned to being put in yet another crate and shipped off someplace else?
But George didnt seem to be thinking about himself. While I mused about how much had already happened in his short life, he seemed more concerned about me. He lifted himself up, tipped his head to one side and looked at me with an expression that Id already come to know. Hey, Dad, it seemed to say to me. Whats up?
He then did something that would be appropriate if you were writing a scene for a movie. He got up from the floor and put his head in my lap, then looked up at me with those enormous blue eyes.
I looked back at the ad, to the two numbers Id scribbled down, and I realized that, actually, I couldnt let him go. He was part of our family, and no matter what the hassle, no matter what the pain, one thing you dont give up on is family. It was time to step up and be the bigger man.
I balled the ad in my fist and launched it inexpertly toward the garbage can. It missed, but what the hell. It was time to make the calls. Sometimes in life you make mistakes.
And often in life you make compromises too, because relationships are all about compromise. My compromise, made one day in the summer of 2005, had been a pretty sensible one, I thought. I wanted to move back to Tucson, Arizonamy hometownand it was clear that my then wife-to-be was less keen. We had already agreedsort ofto move there soon, and she was busy looking for a job, so it wasnt a case of wouldnt, more a case of would, grudgingly. I wanted the move to be special for both of us, hence the conversation. It turned out that she could be bribed.
A dog? I asked, seeing her determined expression and realizing this was probably a nonnegotiable part of the deal.
Christie nodded. Yes. When we move to Arizona, I want a dog. After all, well have a house. Well have a yard. Well have the space
This left me pretty much out of excuses.
Christie had always been a dog lover. I, on the other hand, wasnt, though we did have dogs in the family. Growing up, my brother and I had two toy poodles. They were named Apollo and Sugar, and both of them had plenty of character. Had Apollo, in particular, been entered in an Americas Funniest Home Videos contest, he probably could have won it. He would get up on two front legs, then walk along and pee at the same timenot a skill with an awful lot of practical application, but one that would have everyone in stitches.
Even so, though Apollo and Sugar were very much part of the family, Id never considered myself a dog lover particularly. Both of them died when I was in my teens, and I had no desire, once Id grown up and moved to California, to get another, even had I lived somewhere suitable. As a consequence, Id spent my adult life in a dog-freeindeed, pet-freeenvironment. And that was just how I liked it. Dogs meant responsibility, commitment, hassle: all things I was happy to live without.
Christie, whod been raised in Seal Beach, in Orange County, Californiaa beautiful place right on the coasthad a dog when she was growing up too. The dog was a Dalmatiancockapoo cross named Spot, whod been in the family since before Christie was born. Theirs was a pleasant enough, but not really loving relationship. Perhaps because she felt shed been usurped by Christie coming along, maybe because shed always hated the name Spot, or possibly because she was just a pretty grouchy sort of dog, Spot didnt seem to like her a whole lot, Christie told me. They got along, but they certainly didnt bond.
Spot died when Christie was about fourteen years old and shed always planned, once she had a home of her own, to have a dog of her own tooone who was