Pop

This is Pop.

I have written about him before, but at that time he was a thousand miles away living with my son, Kevin and his fiancée, Preetha. Now he lives with us, and, oh my, how things have changed!

We are thrilled to have them all with us. Having Kevin home is a gift that I intend to cherish for the brief shining moment that it is, and having the chance to know Preetha is setting a strong foundation for our relationship for the rest of our lives. I already love her, and they aren’t even married yet.

Enough about that. Let’s talk about Pop.

We never had a dog because I don’t have enough discipline to teach him/her to poop and pee outside, and I’m not a good enough housekeeper to overcome a poorly disciplined dog. The great thing about Pop is that he comes with Kevin and Preetha to make him behave, and Steve and I can spoil him rotten.

• Oops, that little piece of chicken just slipped out of my hand.
• Yes, I always put my plate on the floor before I put it in the dishwasher. Having a dog lick it clean is like a pre-wash.
• Oh, gosh darn it, Pop, get off the sofa. Crawl in my lap and lick my face first, and then get off the sofa.
• Of course, I always cook two extra pieces of bacon just in case someone wants extra. I’m so glad that I can give it to Pop instead of wasting it.

Waiting for spillage

Now let me tell you about my husband, Mr. “I-don’t-ever-want-a-dog”; Mr. “You-can’t-have-a-dog-because-it-will-destroy-the-house”; Mr. “if-we-have-a-dog-we-can’t-travel.”

This is Steve with the grand-dog. The only problem he has so far is that Pop won’t stay.

Sometimes, Pop just hangs out with us in the family room, watching TV.

Hanging out, watching a little TV with the family.

Here’s the thing you don’t think about when you decide you aren’t a dog family. Pop makes us laugh more than we have laughed since the boys were little. Sometimes I’m standing in the kitchen getting dinner on the table, and this black nose suddenly rises above the horizon of the dinner table sniffing for anything he can hop up and grab before he gets caught.  Sometimes my husband lays on the floor watching TV while he does paperwork, and Pop walks all over him, stepping on head, back and legs as though Steve was just a rug on the floor, and scattering the papers with his big puppy paws. It’s hilarious!

My favorite of all is the “zoomies,” when he starts dashing around the house for no apparent reason. He races up the stairs, he plummets down the stairs, he bounds into the family room, touches his spot and races off like a first class sprinter. He runs into the foyer and slides on the throw rug until it bunches against the front door. He races through the dining room, hits the kitchen floor and slides because he can’t get any traction. It is one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life.

Needless to say, Pop has brought a richness to our life that we never even knew we were missing.  He dashes to greet us when we get home, and licks our faces with pure, unconditional love until we can’t breath. I discuss things with him and he listens, never complicating my thought-process with his own opinions. To Pop, I am the greatest cook in the world, even if the food is raw or burned. After some rough days at work, my husband has found that laughter truly is the best medicine, and Pop has him laughing before he gets as far as flipping through the mail. There is no question that having grown children move home can be stressful for everyone involved, but thanks to Pop our adjustment has been seamless. He is the binding agent that has made us into a new, wonderful type of family.

Pop in a “no-Pop zone” where he is not allowed on the furniture.