My wife is not like most other women. So when she’s feeling a little down in the dumps, she doesn’t want flowers. She has no desire for chocolates and a greeting card won’t do the trick. Over the years that we have been together I have finally learned what it takes to get her back on her game. All she needs is a good sniff of puppy breath.
So, on Saturday, when she was moping around the house, I knew it was time to call in the big guns. I loaded up the family and we ended up at P.A.W. For those of you not familiar with the animal rescue location, there is a large room designated just for cats, but primarily the facility is set aside for dogs. What type of dogs, you may ask. What day is it, I would respond.
You see, on any given day a person can find German Shepherds, boxers, retrievers, pit bulls, fuzzy lap dogs, Mexican yappers, and the list goes on and on. The most popular breed, however, is the traveling salesman. That’s what you have when you ask what kind of dog it is and the response is “Well, it is half boxer and, maybe, half rat terrier.” And that’s why dogs should live in a matriarchal society.
But that’s a whole different story. We came for puppy breath and nothing else would do ... Until my wife saw the Husky. We learned that the dog was socially awkward and needed to walk with people and learn to be loved. That was all it took. My wife was walking the dog and talking with it with every step. They stopped for glamour shots from my daughter’s telephone and the walk continued. Eventually, everyone got tired and we made our way back to the shelter.
Once we got to the building my wife asked me to ask Sandy Brown if there was a puppy that she could just hold for a minute. It was Saturday afternoon and everyone was in a vortex of busy, so we waited. But as we did, a “ferocious” pit bull ran at my wife, tripped over its own tongue and landed in her lap. It was obvious that we were about to take another walk.
For those not familiar with pit bulls, here is all you need to know. The guy who decided that a mule would be the best animal suited to pull a plow never owned a pit bull. The dog we were walking was strong. And when he decided it was time to stop and roll in the grass, that’s what we did. And just for the record, those fru-fru dogs didn’t have anything on him. He hopped in my wife’s lap and dangled his tongue out of the side of his mouth as if to say, “Don’t mind me. I’m just taking a quick breather.”
When we made it back this time we were greeted at the door by Brown. She asked if we ever got to see a puppy and my wife and daughter, both pouting like three-year-olds, said they had not. Sandy went deep into the doggie catacombs and returned with a short-haired something that, I have no idea what it was, but passed the puppy breath test. He did this as he licked the faces of my wife and daughter. My wife was happy. My daughter was happy and all was right with the world again.
Since that event I have been giving this some thought. If there was a way to reproduce the scent of puppy breath, not only could I make a fortune from the multitude of screw-up husbands, but I would make Christmas shopping easier for every male in the would.
Jeff Hunt is a staff writer for the Fort Madison Daily Democrat. Contact him at email@example.com