Abigail Comes to Our House
When my son was seven years old and my daughter eleven, they launched a collaborative campaign for another pet. Our Siamese cat, Bon Toi, had gone to the Bridge about a year earlier and at that point, we had no furry, four legged family members. Apparently the blue Beta who lived in a bowl on the kitchen counter did not count. That Beta, Blue Boy, had traveled from California to Maryland with us by car in a peanut butter jar during one of our PCS moves, (Permanent Change of Station in military speak,) survived BonToi, the aforementioned departed Siamese's frequent paw dipping into his bowl, and even tolerated the occasional Cheerio or Rice Krispie that young, curious minds wondered if he would enjoy. Three years later, Blue Boy successfully made another PCS journey from Maryland to Massachusetts in yet another peanut butter jar. Blue Boy, was nice, the children informed us, but couldn't cuddle or play with them. My husband and I acknowledged the wisdom of this statement.
The major flaw in the children's pet campaign was a lack of consensus between the participants in regard to the relative merits of cats or dogs. Our son promised to walk, feed, and clean up yard droppings of the canine variety. He pointed out that he would be outdoors playing with a new dog instead of playing Nintendo. Concurrently, our daughter, promised to feed and clean the litter box of a potential new cat who would, she assured us, sit on her bed and keep her company and focused while she did her homework. I correctly suspected that in the event of parental capitulation, these promises would not, on a long term basis, be kept, and that I would be expanding my job description and taking on additional duties.
In private conversation, my husband and I discussed the pet campaign and agreed that the children should have another pet or pets. Blue Boy, the Beta, was at least five years old and his formerly brilliant color was fading. According to a pet store employee I had consulted about his fading color, at plus 5 years old, Blue Boy was already a contender for Beta Senior Citizenship in Captivity, and his faded blue color signaled the approaching end of his Golden Years. As I was not anxious to experience another inevitable future PCS travel with a Beta in a peanut butter jar, a new Beta, upon Blue Boy's demise, was not an option. Besides, I missed having a dog or cat to keep me company, especially when my husband was away on temporary duty and the children were in bed.
We didn't want to disappoint either one of the children and decided we would begin looking for a dog and a cat. Our plan was to visit area shelters on Saturdays, telling the children that we were doing a reconnaissance in case, by some miracle, beds were made in the morning, trash was taken out to the dumpster, dishes were cleared from the table after dinner, and homework was completed neatly and without nagging on my part. We had a few weeks where these activities were eagerly completed without my having to remind either child.
My daughter wanted a cat, "just like Bon Toi," so we left our name and telephone number at the various shelters we visited in case a Siamese became available. My son would silently walk up and down the halls in the shelters, peering intently into the dog enclosures, shrug or shake his head, and move on. We would question him on the way home about what he was looking for and all he would tell us was that " I want to find my dog." One Saturday we visited a shelter with a beagle that had been thought to be a stray and was picked up by animal services. My son announced that "this one is like my dog, but it isn't her." This beagle wasn't available anyway as she was well known to the shelter folks as a notorious escape artist. When animal services would drop her off, the shelter personnel would phone her owners and they would be in shortly to retrieve her. We left our name and telephone number in case a really homeless beagle became available, or a Siamese cat, and went home.
Military families have friends living all over the world, with close friendships forged during duty assignments. We also had the usual assortment of extended blood relatives. I decided to telephone some of our friends and relatives living within a day's drive from Massachusetts to tell them about our quest and ask them to keep their eyes and ears open for news of available candidates. Several days later, a friend I had alerted in Maryland called to say that one her military friends living on post had a neighbor whose husband had been reassigned to Germany. This lady fully intended to join her husband in Germany, but her beagle had been bred to another beagle just before they received orders. She couldn't join her husband in Germany until the pups were born and good homes had been found for them. There were still two female pups left,and the owner was becoming rather desperate to fly with Mama Beagle to Germany to join her husband.. My friend suggested that we come for a visit over the weekend and we could go to the puppy lady's house and take a look. My husband was on duty that weekend, so on Friday morning I packed clothes for me and my children, put together snacks and a picnic supper for the trip, borrowed a small dog crate, and picked my children up when school let out for the weekend. I told the children that we were going to visit our friends in Maryland and get a beagle. After a long drive, during which time my children finally fell asleep after we crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge, we arrived at my friend's home. Her husband carried the children, still sound asleep, into the house and put them into beds with the covers already turned back. After bringing in my suitcase, I climbed into bed beside my daughter and fell sound asleep. I woke up in time to shower and dress before our 10 AM appointment to meet the puppies. The children were wide awake and full of energy and excitement. They had slept all the way from the New York/New Jersey border and woke up on Saturday morning in Maryland. While they had had plenty of sleep, I was still pretty tired, but off to see the puppies we went. My friend and hostess decided to come with us. I had no trouble finding the house because we had previously been stationed at this post and I knew the area well. As we walked up on the porch, I reminded the children to be calm and quiet around puppies, and even before I rang the doorbell, we were greeted with a characteristic beagle bugle howl.
We all trooped into the living room after being invited to come in.There is nothing more precious than a ten week old puppy and these little girls were just adorable. Instead of being mesmerized by the puppies, my son made a bee line for the Mama Beagle. "This is the one," he announced. The owner explained that Mama was her dog, but my son could have one of the puppies. When one of the puppies began to play with his shoe lace, he picked her up and said, " I guess this one will be okay." I was embarrassed and irritated by his lack of enthusiasm, but signed a paper promising to have her spay, accepted a temporary health certificate from her vet, and tried to pay the lady, but she insisted that she only wanted to make sure her pups had a good home, and asked that I mail an occasional photo from time to time. We all got back into the car and I was rather horrified to see that my son had passed our puppy to my daughter. This was definitely not going the way I had expected. I pulled the car over to the curb and apologized to my friend for having to stop to speak to my son about his attitude. I wanted to find out what was wrong, and turned around to the back seat to question him. The conversation went something like this.
Me (glaring at my eight year old son): "Exactly what is your problem?"
Son (in a very subdued voice): "I wanted a bigger dog. This one is so little."
Me: She is just a baby. She will grow up to be just as big as her mama."
Son (in a voice filled with great disbelief) "Yeah, okay."
Me: " I wouldn't lie to you. Have I ever lied to you?"
Son: "Well.......yes."
Me: "When did I lie to you?"
Son: "You told me if I picked my nose it would get big and red and glow in the dark, just like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer."
Me: "Well, your nose is just fine, aren't glad I told you not to pick it?"
Son: " I did pick it, a lot, when you weren't looking."
Well, he had me there! I had told him that teeny little white lie, hoping to put a stop to this behavior. I was momentarily at a loss for words. I looked over at my friend in the passenger seat. She was frantically digging in her purse. Her face was sort of red and at first I thought she was crying. I asked if she felt okay, thinking that maybe our arrival at her home late the night before and my little chat with my son had upset her. She found a tissue in her purse, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Meanwhile, my daughter was assuring my son that our puppy really would grow bigger. When I looked back over at my friend, she looked a lot better, although her face was still kind of red. "I wouldn't have missed that exchange for the world,"she whispered." Then she undid her seat belt, turned around and said to my son, "Have I ever lied to you?" When he acknowledged that she hadn't, she said, "I promise you, your puppy will grow and be just as big as her mama." Since this seemed to be the general consensus of all the females in the car, my son brightened up considerably and took the puppy from my daughter onto his lap. As I pulled the car away from the curb, my friend asked my son, " What are you going to name your puppy?"
Son: "Mommy already named her."
Me: "No I didn't."
Son: "Yes you did."
Me: "No I didn't."
Son: " Yes you did. You said we were going to get Abigail and now we have her."
Daughter: "Geez, you are such a dummy, Mom said we were going to get A BEAGLE!"
Me: "Don't call your brother a dummy."
My friend: Choking noises and more purse searching for a tissue.:
Me: "There is a box of tissues in the glove compartment. I need one too, and an Excedrin when we get to your house."