Tuesday, 25 March 2008

We bought the dog I'm afraid

Judge me at your leisure. We caved, gave in to insurmountable pressure, looked into those large brown eyes and said the immortal word: Yes. Oh dear, the look in Isla's eyes the moment we agreed to get her a puppy said it all (cue sing song voice) once you've said it you can't take it ba-ack tralla tralla tra, we didn't take it back, we took her instead to choose a puppy.
Now, don't get me wrong, this was a well thought out decision. I knew in advance that all the work would fall to me and all the playing/stroking/feeding to Isla (for the first week at least until the novelty wore off and then my job description would absorb the playing/stroking/feeding bit. I have acres of time you see to devote to a boistrous puppy. Acres.) Anyway, Husband and I had thought and thought, discussed, discussed some more and came up with two lines: How hard can it be really? and Other people do it, so I'm sure we can. I should have heard the warning drone in my ear. I had said those lines before, about five years ago. Right before deciding to come off the pill.
The problem is that those lines work, you can convince yourself of anything with them. Nobody likes to think that they can't do something lots and lots of people are doing (and with apparent ease - ah the illusion) and nobody ever, ever reckons on something so cute being hard work. I mean children/dogs just play at your feet don't they? As long as they have a loving home and food to eat you can't go wrong. (Anyone saying this to you from now on, please direct them to this blog). It was a fait accompli really, you can't combine big brown eyes and a challenge to do better than others and not cave. A puppy it was.
Regular readers will know that Isla has had this puppy in her head for a while, she's even promised Barbie a matching one, with a matching name: Patch. That's right, Patch. So, given that she wanted to call the puppy Patch we looked for a breed that commonly has some sort of patch. Any sort would do, a freckle would suffice, anything to save our embarrassment in the park of a dog called Patch without a patch.
When we arrived to see the puppy he was, thankfully, covered in patches, he couldn't move for them, there are at least a hundred marks that could decently be called a patch. Excellent, onward we go. Isla loved him immediately, picking him up and playing chase. It was a touching scene, worth all the worry and decision making. Do you want to take Patch home? Asked Husband smiling. Isla looked alarmed at Patch, then at Husband and informed him in no uncertain terms that Patch was so last season (she even tossed her hair at him! How, why, where did she learn to do that? She's so darn good at it. Perhaps she'd teach me?) His name she announced (more hair tossing, I'm considering chopping it off in her sleep), is Twizzle. Twizzle. Great. Thanks. Cheers Isla. No one would ever feel embarrassed calling out Twizzle in a loud across-the-park voice. In fact I know at least four other dogs called Twizzle, Twizzle is so last year let alone last season. It didn't wash I'm afraid, something to do with the way I toss my hair seems to give away the fact that I haven't a clue as to last decade let alone last year.
The only way around it, Husband and I agreed, is to actually teach Twizzle to twizzle. We could summon him across the park accompanied by a light waltz from the ipod. He could twizzle towards us much like those dogs at Crufts who dance with their owners. We'd look great, exemplary pet owners and parents - fresh air, exercise and classical music for our brood. A little effeminate though was Husband's worry. More effeminate than naming your dog Twizzle and shouting it across the park? Quite. We'll see you at the park. And let this blog be a lesson to you all about giving a nearly-four-year-old too much power. It's too late for us now, but save yourselves.

1 comment:

Mud said...

A friend of mine was allowed to name her family's dog when she was about 6. The poor thing was saddled with the name:
"Tilt-brollish"
for the next 10 years! Creative....