A Dog Day Morning

Rem tends to take the spotlight away from all of the other players in his life and today proved no exception. Tam fell into Rem’s imagination abyss and found herself playing second fiddle not only to Rem but to Rem’s stuffed dog, Rocky, too. Rocky acquired his name and Rem’s interest only this morning and reinforced Rem’s reign over the Chenevert household when Rocky sported a brown leather leash that, only moments before, were holding up Craig’s pants as he readied himself for work.

Tam, on the other hand, wore a worn purple leash that had spent the night on the porch soaking up the dampness from the rain. Although dangerously close to arriving late for her veterinarian appointment, Tam waited patiently at the back door while Rem decided that one of Lise’s old belts would suit Rocky better than Craig’s and carefully made the switch.

The four of us, Rocky and Rem, Tam and I, made our way to the vet’s office. The receptionist greeted us and it seemed that she knelt down to put Tam at ease but it soon became clear that Rocky needed more attention as he suddenly fell into her lap. Tam quivered through her examination and could not get off the table soon enough. She jumped the four feet to the floor as soon as the doctor stepped away. Not so with Rocky. He nearly flung himself onto the table and with Rem’s encouraging “good boy” and “good dog, Rocky”, sat through a thorough examination and rabies shot without a flinch. While Rem and Rocky accepted the praises of the doctor and all who came pouring in to watch the spectacle, Tam nervously shed about half of her fur onto me.

Imagine Tam’s humiliation as she whimpered through the usual trauma of having her nails clipped only to be interrupted at Rem’s insistence that Rocky (who at all outward appearances has no nails at all) take a turn. Not only did the two women fawn over the stuffed mutt as they pretended to clip his nails but they also rewarded him with real dog treats. Rem seemed thrilled.

Completely spent from her annual physical, Tam hovered at the door while Rocky swung this way and that in the lobby where Rem, at the other end of the leash introduced him to everyone. Apparently, Rocky is two and he likes to play in the park. The brown fuzzy dog, unrecognizable as any breed much less one as dignified as a Brittany, and his equally impudent owner sucked every ounce of attention, compassion and admiration from that office, leaving Tam with nothing. But, as always, Tam maintained her composure and, head held high, we returned home. She immediately rushed toward her crate. Perhaps she wished to sulk unnoticed. But who should come soaring over her head to land in the crate first? Rocky, of course. And Rem left the two of them to work it out together as he ran away, laughing.