My brother has a dog. I like my brother, and I don't like dogs. So, naturally I had to compromise --I had to like my brother a little less, and decide to like the dog a little bit. What does this look like? Michael received one less phone call per month, and I acknowledged the dog, but not so that he knew it --I wouldn't look him in the eye or let him lick, sniff, or come within a foot of me. It worked well in theory until he started to be a pretty cool dog and defy all of my expectations: smelly, shaggy, sniffy, licky, irresponsible with his "duty," and (that is too many -Y's) hyper.
In fact, he slept, never barked, and he ignored me, even when I wanted him to play! Needless to say, he was pretty awesome, and now I even like to pet his nose.
His full name is Caius Maximus (I am sure there is a manly/adventure story behind that), shortened to Cai because he's a hunting dog, and they have to be commanded by a single syllable name (apparently). He eats chew toys in 5 minutes flat, stalks birds, and is an incredible mountain climber. We went hiking a few weeks ago in the snow and Cai was dashing down cliffs and coming back up a few minutes later for over an hour.
My favorite part is that he doesn't do anything unless Michael has given him permission. When the door is open he stands there until Michael says, "Cai relax," he doesn't walk in front of you on his leash, he doesn't chew, jump, or bark, unless Michael says, "Go get it Cai!" And therefore, he is perfect.
I'll try not to think about what my marveling at this degree of control over another living being says about me, uh, yeah. And instead, I'll leave you with some pictures.
Now, I like Michael more, and I like Cai. What a compromise!
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