Piper
It was the day after Thanksgiving that my best friend Cari told me that she and her husband had been talking, and they realized something: they have a puppy. I cautiously agreed that they did, indeed, have a puppy. (I honestly thought they knew, as they’d had said puppy for six months now.) Cari then said that they realized something else: Christmas was coming. (Again, I thought they knew.) Cari repeated their revelation, stressing the nouns through the phone line: “We have a puppy, and Christmas is coming.”
Ah, yes. I flashed back to the years the kids were crawling or toddling or (let’s be honest) preschool-ing and realized the Cardle household was facing the same decorate-and-protect scenario. I promptly pulled up Amazon and started sending screenshots of puppy-worthy child-proofing gates.
I should have made the Piper/Christmas connection earlier, really. Cari and her husband Matt (we both married Matts – it’s not as confusing as you’d think, until I go to write it and realize you might not see that it’s her Matt and not mine) and their girls had just gotten back from the snow.
They posted a darling video on Facebook of Piper romping around, chasing snowballs, and I laughed for several minutes. I laughed because Piper’s a 50-pound black lab/cattle dog mix puppy in the snow for the first time and darling, of course, but also because they’d dressed her in a coat. Did you read that? They dressed her. In a coat. I gently razzed Cari in a text and her reply was, “Yeah. She didn’t like the booties.”
The puppy officially belongs to their youngest, Brianne, but their entire household revolves around this newest member. Cari and I talk every day around 4 o’clock as she drives home from work, and if we’re still on the phone when she gets home there’s a good five to ten minutes of greeting the dog. (“Hiiiiii, Piper! Yes, yes, I’m home! Shhh, you’re fine, bubbie. Where’s your bear? Go get your bear. Do you want a treat? Siiiitttt…siiiitttt. Good girl!”)
Of course, this is only if Piper has been home for part of the day and hanging out with Matt for part of the day. (He is self-employed and either works from home for a few hours or comes home for a long lunch break and plays with Piper so she’s not lonely.) If Matt’s too busy or out of town on business, Piper goes to doggy daycare. Doggy. Daycare.
Piper is also in school. I have a picture of her wearing a graduation cap to prove that she has, indeed, passed more than one class in said school. (She did struggle with the “drop it” command, because who would want to let go of anything once you have it? Not Piper.) She also is taken to the park fairly regularly – even as it’s getting dark and the sky is an ominous black cloud getting ready to make the muddy park even muddier – because did I mention she’s a six-month-old black lab/cattle dog mix puppy? She has a LOT of energy.
The other day on our regular call, I told Cari about a Christmas tree farm that allowed dogs (Pochini Family Farm). Cari let out a considering, “Oooh!” Brianne was in the car, and she groaned. “Oh, my God, seriously? Do we have to? It’s going to be So… Much…Work!” Cari and I laughed, and Brianne continued, “Seriously, Mom, it’s going to be a disaster. How are we going to cut down a tree if we bring her? We won’t be able to. Do we have to bring her to a Christmas tree farm?” There was a definite exhausted-even-contemplating-it whine going, which I must say I appreciated: I remember the first four or five years of Thomas’s life, after all.
We have no puppy. We have a sweet, cozy, doesn’t-go-to-daycare cat. She wears nothing but her fur, and we haven’t had to purchase a gate to celebrate a holiday. Yes, we love and enjoy Piper very much, but after a few hours with that puppy energy we come home and give Posey a kiss and thank her profusely for being a cat. Good girl!
Juliana LeRoy wears many hats, including wife, mother, paraeducator and writer. She can be spotted around Windsor gathering material, or reached at ml****@so***.net. blog at http://mamabear.pnn.com.
