The "love" we give the family dog.

Our children love our dog, Tucker. In fact, everyone in our home loves Tucker. He is truly a member of the family. Unfortunately for Tucker, how our family displays this “love” can sometimes be . . . well . . . painful. The children love hugging, squeezing, and petting the dog. If Tucker were to translate that, it would mean that they are chasing him around the house, jerking his tails and ears, and tackling him at every opportunity. At times, it looks so rough that I worry about his safety, but he hardly whimpers.


The kids have figured out they can get Tucker to chase them when they steal his toy and he’ll even play tug-o-war with them. Although, he must be smarter than we give him credit for as he often, seemingly intentionally and strategically, will let go of the tug toy at just the right moment, sending the children flying backwards as they give a big pull with no resistance from the dog. The other game of chase, where the children chase the dog, seems more like a race for survival for the dog as he runs, jumps, and dives under furniture to keep away from the “love” the children are attempting to give him. Once caught, he is hugged, squeezed, and wrestled to the ground. He has figured out that the best defense mechanism in this situation is his tongue. A good slobbery lick across the face typically sends the kids diving away, wiping their faces yelling, “Argh,” temporarily releasing their prisoner.

Another example of the “love” our dog gets for being a part of our family occurred recently when we had our son take the dog outside on one of those retractable leads and when he returned, he kept the dog on this lead in the house. He closed the dog on the opposite side of a glass door and slowly backed away, stretching the lead to its maximum. My wife noticed this strange development and asked him what he was doing. Our son, in a tone that suggested he was stating the obvious said, “I wanted to see how far the lead would go.” Tucker, just sat at the end of the extended lead with those sad eyes seemingly saying, “Are you really just going to sit there and watch this?”

Unfortunately for Tucker, he is not immune from this sort of “love” from the adults either. You see, Tucker is a cute dog. So cute, in fact, that nearly everyone assumes he, is a she. So in an effort to make him more manly looking, we gave him a haircut . . . a Mohawk to be precise. That poor dog could hardly show his face around the house he was so embarrassed. The good news is that it had the desired effect, as we have fewer cases of mistaken gender identity now.

But before you start feeling sorry for Tucker, know that at the end of the day, he climbs up on our bed, makes at least a dozen circles trying to find that most comfortable spot, does a little digging in a totally inappropriate location (our brand new comforter) showing his ancestral instincts that no longer have any value in his life, before he plops down for another long nap. This is seemingly makes up his existence, a series of long, lazy naps, interrupted only to eat and suffer some small indignity by our family.

Although our son made it clear recently, that despite his affection for Tucker, he is disappointed with one shortcoming. When asked what he wants for his upcoming birthday, he said, “A talking dog that is not a robot.”

When you get up from your nap, Tucker, speak!

A column . . . written by the family dog.

Hello. My name is Tucker and I am the Ryerson family dog. Now I am fully aware that I have been picked on and the butt of many jokes in this column (I mean, they cut my hair into a Mohawk – come on!), so I thought I’d get in my two cents worth. The truth is, my human, Matt, is not near as smart as he thinks he is. In fact, watching him struggle to write a 500 word column one time a week is simply embarrassing. That is why I decided to step in and give him a break this week. Besides, working this computer really isn’t all that difficult; except for the lack of fingers (paws aren’t ideal for typing).

I don’t recall my life as a young pup. My first memory is sitting in the palm of the hand of my owner in a parking lot south of Atlanta. My owners were not married at the time, only engaged (oh the silly rituals you humans go through), so I went to live with the male, Matt is what other humans call him. He seemed to believe he was the alpha in that relationship (I think he still believes that), but that was clearly not true. Later that same year, they went on to become man and wife (we call that relationship ‘mate’, but whatever).

At that point in time, I was the king of the homestead, lord of the manor, and I had run of the house. I was the centerpiece of the family and I would get shown off to all sorts of visitors. I went on every trip to the store and was taken to the park on a regular basis. Suddenly, my humans came home one day and were acting differently. I immediately noticed I wasn’t getting as much attention and taking fewer trips than I traditionally received. Even my best efforts to gain their attention only resulted in scorn (apparently you humans don’t appreciate the way I mark my territory).

Shortly after that change, they brought home another little human. This guy began his time in our home as quite the pest and certainly hogged much of the attention that used to be mine. Fortunately, I am comfortable in my own fur and don’t need constant praise and attention to feel good about myself (unlike some other little human I knew). Shortly after we settled into a routine, they showed up at the house with another one of these needy little humans (although she is cute) to disrupt our family utopia. Nonetheless, after a short adjustment period, we all became accustomed to one another and I found out that the addition of these two little humans only resulted in MORE attention and love.

So why am I writing you this story (other than my human Matt was flat out of decent ideas for this column and I wanted to save you the pain of reading another boring story of his childhood)? It is only to tell you that if you are so fortunate to be allowed to live with one of my relatives (you call us ‘the family pet’), recognize that we are a part of the family. We contribute to the level of happiness (I might argue that we are the REASON for the happiness) and role model unconditional love (except for those crazy cats, I am not so sure about them). By the way, when it comes time for the family photo – don’t forget about us! We enjoy showing off our humans to our friends just like anyone else.