The Parent Dog

As you have probably gathered by now, my dog Parker is a special creature. Creatures with his capacity to love are truly rare and incredibly invaluable to those lucky enough to know them. Last week, I was reminded of another facet of his, well, love.

Parker is a parent to all puppies. I first experienced this first hand when my wife's sister brought over her new bulldog pup, Murphy. Or as my sister calls it, "the fat one". Now this animal is your classic English bulldog, in that it is so ugly it is cute. Seriously, it looks like someone bashed in the poor dog’s face with a flat shovel. Now my parents have a wonderful mutt named Bounder, who also came equipped with a capacity to love that is infinite. But he does get a tad jealous every now and then. With a new puppy at the house, and that pup being, shall we say, un-snipped, Bounder came awful close to putting the hurt down on Murphy. Parker and Bounder are steadfast friends, yet when Bounder strode towards Murphy, with intentions fully bared, Parker intercepted, and walked shoulder to shoulder with Bounder, guiding him away from the pup.

It was no accident, and the scenario replayed in similar form several times that night. Gentle but steadfast, Parker didn't let the pup get what it arguably deserved. My family and I were in awe.

A couple weekends ago, we brought Parker to my wife's brother's house to meet their new puppy. As Parker's former owner, my brother in law was thrilled to see him (who wouldn't be?), and it was a homecoming party and puppy introduction in one. Not lost in the human interactions, however, were the dog ones. Their new puppy Katie is also an American bulldog, virtually all-white to Parker's tiger-stripe brindle. A sweet dog (what puppy isn't?), she was terrified of Parker, and sat literally shaking in the lap of my sister in law. Parker seemed to understand the poor dog's fear, and he set about teaching her dog interactions.

When he approached, at first she would growl, and he would walk on. Obviously not intimidated, Parker just didn't want to scare her. As the night progressed, every fifteen minutes or so, he would pause by her, wait till she would tremor or growl, and then continue on. There was no pressure, just the option. Then he'd go and lie somewhere else, enjoying all the attention from his former owners.

At the end of the night, as we got up to leave, he walked past her one last time. No growl. Longer pause. Katie nervously stretched forward to sniff him. Statues move more than Parker in that moment. He then turned, slowly and softly, every move deliberate, and gave her a small sniff. She then stepped forward, out of the lap of a human, to meet this non-threatening entity. As they sniffed we couldn't help but laugh. He had taught her rule #1 in canine etiquette, and in a way so clear and effective it couldn't have been real. As we walked away, she half-followed, going to the door to watch Parker go.

I can't tell you how blessed I am to have this dog. I swear he teaches me new things every week. Oh, and if you were wondering, he's still whipping some cancer butt.