This picture is all you need to know about the cruel fate that has befallen our beloved dog this week. That’s right: we got a puppy. I swear it seemed like a good idea at the time.
The backstory: our dog, Uki, is a reject from Guiding Eyes for the Blind (of course, Guiding Eyes prefers the much gentler—if completely euphamistic—”released puppy”). After a brief, ferociously destructive period of chewing about 2,000 Legos, Uki settled in to being a perfect pet. Seriously, everyone else who lives in our house is deeply flawed compared to Uki. He is sensitive, kind, mellow, affectionate, and never runs off, even if someone accidentally leaves the front door open while we go out to dinner, which did actually happen once.
Uki’s only flaw is that he will eventually die. (I suppose, if I were wiser, I would not consider that a flaw. But we all have “growth opportunities,” as we say here in corporate America, and dealing with mortality is one of mine.) And he is already 10. So we decided to get another reject, er, dog. You know, so when Uki goes to the Perfect Dog Heaven in the Sky, we still have a warm furry body around.
Because Uki is mellow and affectionate and kind, he has greeted the new puppy politely. Well, politelyish. Sort of the way you would greet someone you hated in high school but ran into at the 25th reunion: fake polite, because you’re mature now.
The yellow lab is Uki. The black lab is the puppy. And here is what Uki is saying in this photo:
“Actually, I would prefer not to talk to you. I avoided you in high school and think it is my duty to keep avoiding you now.”
“Seriously, people?!?!? Help.”
And so now Uki hates me, because the whole thing was my idea. I am giving him as much extra love and attention as I can, and really praying that this does not hasten his trip to that Perfect Dog Heaven in the Sky.