Top Dog

When we at one time, back in the day, laid a needle to vinyl- we knew that what was coming next was sounds, beautiful sounds.

Today, in our house, when any two surfaces make contact, we know that what comes next is barking, a symphony of dogs howling to the ceiling. 

We are wall-to-wall dogs here at 278. 

Our oldest is Maggie, a Goldendoodle. In the modern dog era, breeds are mixed like exotic cocktails. If Maggie were a cocktail- you’d be ordering a ‘Whatever’. Poodles are smart. Maggie is smart. She reminds us each day with her diamond encrusted ‘1600’ pendant on her collar, signifying her perfect canine SAT score. She is aloof. Whatever. 

After Maggie came Cailey. She is a Cockapoo. She is a hot mess. But sweet.

We thought we were done after having these two, yet wife Julie learned of a dog rescue website- where she laid eyes on Henry- a tiny Snoopy lookalike who was found in a box at a hospital. Before we knew it he was in our arms. He goes by ‘Hank’, ‘A-hole’, and occasionally ‘Putin’. He is jealous, cranky, but makes up for it by showing empathy when anyone is in pain. 

So, a ‘three dog night’ should have been enough to then say goodnight. But we added a fourth to make it a four dog night…mare. Georgie was on display at the pet store. No one wanted him. He is a tiny brown mutt, with drooping eyes that seem to say I party too hard or that I rode that roller coaster too many times. His back half never fully formed so he is literally a front-wheel drive pup, his powerful chest and front leg ‘guns’ have earned him part time work as a male ‘with a tail’ model.

Four of anything can feel like a lot. When you are picking up poop from one, another is in the trash, while the other two want attention. While we were busy managing this herd, these four were creating their own TV version of ‘Survivor’. 

One night they cornered me, in a virtual council fire setting, seeking the truth.

Maggie opened- ‘So we have been barking, I mean talking- the four of us, and we need to know something’. ‘I’m anxious when my mascara runs, but this is driving me nuts’ added Cailey. Henry told of a time when he threw up in our bed but he wasn’t really sick, just a bundle of nerves. 

Then, Georgie spilled the team beans- ‘which of us is your favorite?’

I was one of two boys. We both got the same things, delivered at the same time. We have two sons. They both got the same things, at the same time. Now with four dogs, who get coverage in the same way a rock drummer contorts to hit all surfaces, I needed a drum roll to bring the suspense to a halt;

“You will all interview for the job of ‘Top Dog!’

I instructed that each would be interviewed for 5 minutes, adding that with ‘Top Dog’ comes responsibility- not as a favorite, but as a leader.

The house is squeezed with our sons home given COVID, so interviews were conducted in the hall bathroom. I sat on the throne, fully clothed, and each came in separately. Maggie was first. 

Our discussion was under 5 minutes. She brought her academic transcripts, a neighborhood dog reference detailing her friendly nature, and in her mouth was my watch that I lost four years ago. The discussion peaked when she gave me a condescending glance and asked- ‘are you going to flush?’

Cailey came in. She kept looking at herself in the mirror. I couldn’t get her to focus- so I played some Jonas Brothers on my phone to bring her around, tail wagging now to the beat. Her response was ‘Nick Jonas’ when I asked her where she saw herself in two years. 

Henry knocked on the bathroom door, I let him in, he then mumbled something. I asked him to repeat it. He said this was ‘a bunch of f’ing bs’. We then got into an italian mob style argument- ending with me sobbing and Henry trying to be productive for once with the toilet paper, strands that he usually drags and eats in the middle of the house. 

Finally, Georgie. He is my favorite. He is our favorite. He knows it. The real question was, would this then to be grounds for lawsuits filed by the other three for prejudice?

‘Will I get a company car?’ Georgie assumptively asked. 

We reconvened. Georgie was declared top dog. 

The other three immediately contacted legal counsel, sued, and made out handsomely. 

Maggie bought a home in Savannah. Cailey got tickets to Coachella.  And Henry struted 7 angry little leg miles to purchase a pistol.  

Monday came, and I asked who of the four dogs was going to take out the trash. 

Georgie looked at me with those droopy eyes as the other three howled “Top Dog!”.