2007 - Sincerely Sire Newsletter
dog food, vet bills, and doggie toys, Finn, our now full-grown
20-pounds-of-JAWS Boston terrier has cost me five grand. I’m not kidding
and I’m not exaggerating.
14-foot by 12-foot custom area rugs—I don’t have to tell you how she
destroyed those—and one TV repair—remember she ate it—later, I
figured I was finally done with Finn miscellaneous
expenses. But that was before she ate the corner of our custom-made,
chewed sofa didn’t bother me that much, but it did bother Roe—much. I
tried to convince her to just let it be, and that worked for a while, but
this dog—I’m talking about Finn…let’s not make things worse than
they already are—she is always on the sofa, shedding shedding shedding
her little black hairs all over everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.
Yesterday I opened a brand new tube of toothpaste, squeezed some on to my
toothbrush, and there to my amazement, embedded in the tartar-resistant
white paste was one of Finn’s shiny black hairs. How does she do that?
in addition to the hair, she drags in mud from the patio when she comes in
through her doggy door and jumps on the sofa with one of her many buried
rawhide bones—she loves rawhide bones. And then to top things off she
gets little scratches on her paws and frequently spots our light beige
sofa with rich red blood. And since this is a fabric sofa, it can’t
really be wiped clean, so, this means once a week Roe is removing all the
covers from the entire sofa and washing and drying everything and putting
them back on the sofa. Week after week after week.
I guess she must have gotten tired of doing it, because she came home a
few weeks ago and told me she had purchased a new leather sofa.
of course, she didn’t just come right out and tell me she had bought a
new sofa. No, she went through her normal process of obfuscation by first
picking a fight with me over something minor, putting me solidly on the
defensive, and then casually, as an add-on, mentioning that she had,
“Oh, by the way,” just purchased a new sofa for the family room.
new sofa?” I said. “You didn’t take me with you? How much did it
honey, how much did it cost? You’re making me nervous. How much?”
won’t even be here for a couple of weeks.”
thousand two hundred dollars.”
thousand two hundred dollars? Three thousand two hundred dollars! What
does it look like? How do you know I will like it? I can’t believe you
bought a sofa, the place where we spend most of our lives without seeing
if I liked it first. I just can’t believe you would do that.”
like it,” she said.
you get your money back?”
that’s just great,” I said. “I guess I better like it. You know
I’m really upset that you would go out and buy something as expensive as
that, something as important as that, without having me involved. How
could you do that? That’s why you picked that whole fight with me just
now, isn’t it? Because you were nervous about telling me about the sofa?
confronted directly in this manner, Roe has a way of becoming instantly
translucent. The eyes move so far up into her forehead I find myself
looking at two egg whites. She just isn’t there anymore. I don’t know
where she goes, I just know it’s far away—South Coast Plaza
maybe—and that the noise coming
out of my mouth islanding on left ears.
so, it was with great anticipation that I awaited our new sofa, knowing
that we couldn’t get our money back and that although I had never seen
it, Roe had assured me that, “I
would like it.”
it arrived, and I don’t—like it. The first thing I noticed was that
the L-shaped sofa was about a foot and a half shorter one way and about a
foot shorter the other way, than our old one. It also wasn’t as deep as
our other sofa. It looked like a sofa for midgets. The arm rests are too
high and the cushions in the back bump into my head when I lean back and
they’re too soft. I hate it.
now what am I supposed to do? I can’t get my money back, I’m stuck
with Roe—I’ve gotten almost
as attached to her over the past thirty-two years as the old sofa—and we
gave the old couch away to the cleaning lady. Hum, I wonder if she’d
take this new leather sofa and bring the old one back. It’s an option.
Maybe I could surprise Roe!
one good thing is that the new sofa is leather and it can easily be
cleaned with one or two swipes of a damp cloth. Roe will like that. It
will make her happy.
guess the only thing I can do is learn to love it, in spite of its many
drawbacks, soft cushions, and high cost—just like Roe. I can do that.
just hope Finn is able to discern the difference between rawhide and
genuine leather, otherwise I’ll come home one day and find our sofa
buried in the garden…in which case, soon to be joined by Finn.
Back to Archives
Back to Home Page