I have a confession to make. I’m a Momma’s Boy. I accompany her down the hall. I stick to her like pancakes in the kitchen. I lay next to her desk. And I nose my way into the forbidden room next to the bed when she tries to close me out. (Nice try, Mom.) But there’s something about the stoic strength of a Dad that makes me behave. Mom is my buddy, but Dad is the Alpha.
I love that Moms get their own day in May called Mother’s Day, but Dad’s get their own day in June too, known as Father’s Day. (Why not Daddy’s Day? I like the way the Ds sound.) Let’s celebrate Dads.
When it was time to adopt me at 4 months old, I heard the story about my dad saying, “No male dogs and no puppies.” But when I went for a meet-and-greet, I looked at him with my heart melting puppy-dog eyes and rubbed my soft floppy ears against his leg, he changed his mind instantly.
Mom accompanies me on my walk every morning to see what new scents appeared overnight, but Dad supervises the after-mealtime exploration around the backyard. When I’m finished, I do spread eagles and romp circles around him.
Then there’s the way Dad asserts his Alpha attitude and pretends he doesn’t like certain things. “I don’t want Larry on the sofa.” Five minutes later, “Well, just this once.” Ten minutes later I have my head on his lap sound asleep, and he can’t get up to find his ringing phone.
The thing about my Dad is he acts all Alpha and stern and stuff, but he brings home pup cups from DQ (I know both those words), he makes sure I take my pills, he feeds me a bonus snack after dinner, and he builds stuff for me, like a ramp so I don’t have to jump in the back seat of his truck.
Moms are lovely, but Dads are love.
Happy Father’s Day
Love, Larry