Hi, my name’s Joe and I’m a dogaholic.
It seems like in today’s world no one wants to be a generalist, we have a need to pigeon-hole everything in our lives. Carrying a banner truly is the American way. We apparently have this in-born need to be labeled, or categorized. We do it in every aspect of our lives, from our political party affiliation to the need to give our race, religion, age and creed on a warranty return form. So, where am I going with this?
I had always felt the need to label my dog ownership, when Emma first came into our lives I was a Chessie Guy. Then Maggie and Belle entered the scene and I thought, I’m a Setter Guy who will always have a retriever. Now there’s a little white devil of a cocker sitting next to me as I type, and it’s made me come to the conclusion that I’m none of the above. I’m just a dirty, muddy-pawed, hair on the clothes Dog Guy. I like ‘em all, and not just the hunting breeds. I like the mutts of suspect origin to the overly bred show dogs…I’m a dog addict. Thankfully my wife is able to keep some semblance of rationality in the house, because if it were up to me we’d be overrun with dogs. I just love dogs.
She doesn’t know it yet but we’re working on adding a Chesapeake back to the house…in a couple of years. If it were solely up to me we’d have a brown dog tomorrow, but I’ve carefully calculated the amount of time needed to slowly wear her defenses down and avoid a divorce in the process. I have it figured to be in the 24-28 month ballpark. The poor girl just doesn’t stand a chance…addicts have a way of getting their fix and we’ll pull out all the stops (or in this case Coach, Kate Spade, Prada, Manolo) that it takes to get what we want.
It feels good to get this off my chest and out in the open for discussion. No more surfing the ‘net looking at puppy breeders’ websites in the wee hours of the morning while Chrissy’s still in bed, or sneaking an extra scratch behind the ear of that dog in the hospital waiting for surgery, or the secret longing to take that little field-bred springer in the boarding kennel home at night to romp with the rest of the crew. I’ve finally come clean and plan to embrace my doggie addiction head on. No more suffering in silence, I’m a dogaholic and proud of it!
Addendum: Does anyone have a home for a homeless veterinarian with two setters, a cocker and a Chessie on the way? When Chrissy read the Chessie bit she mentioned something about “it’s me or the dogs.”…and, well, we all know which option the addict will choose.