marley…Marley…MARLEY!!!

First things first…I have not updated to my blog at the rate of once a week like I proposed in my first week. The past couple of weeks have been kinda tough, both physically and mentally. Being a dad ain’t for the weak, that’s why I have the utmost respect for those with blended families who do their best to make it work. Don’t believe it when your stepchild says it’s ok that you did not make it to their sporting event (even if it’s one of those state volleyball matches that last ALL DAY LONG), or is alright with you breaking the commitment to see Incredibles 2 last weekend, or you faking out on buying those Jordan 11s if he got on the honor roll all school year. Dads have to go to work too, and pay bills, and have the emergency funds when the air conditioning unit and water heater system goes out at the same time, and your wife reminded you all month about going to the get-together in Charleston, and you have to get Mid-Year evaluations done for 18 direct reports during the same weekend. What are your time management suggestions for making sure the bills keep getting paid, and making sure you are spending meaningful time with your family? Time with the family keeps YOU from going crazy too. It’s a minimal cost for going to the beach, or getting ice cream, or having a Medea movie marathon in the living room (after a couple of beers, the BOO Halloween movie is pretty funny). You are building memories; events that your kids will always remember. My sister and I almost never talk about things our parents got us; it’s places we went, or things we were taught (tying a tie, mowing the lawn, backing the car in the garage) that stick with us. I remember cracking on my dad because he wore a “pleather” jacket to work; he bought me a real leather jacket after I said I wanted one just like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever and made the sacrifice to his own wardrobe. It’s an old saying, but it’s true…you lead by example.
The title of the blog this week refers to the family’s dog, when he takes off across the street after seeing a cat or a rabbit or a kid playing with a ball. My youngest daughter Taylor now wants her own dog (Marley is owned by my stepdaughter Dawn, but guess who walks him, feeds him, buys his food…I draw the line at bathing). When I think of having a dog, I think of my mom and dad giving me the opportunity to take care of my own dog, and I think it’s a great hands-on practice in responsibility, if you don’t break down like me. Walking Marley has helped me lose over 35 pounds in the last year, which has aided in managing my diabetes tremendously.
My first dog, which came to the house when I was eight years old, was a German Shepard named Daisy, and we kept her for about three months. Like Jeff Goldblum says in Jurassic Park, “It start’s with the ooohhs and ahhhs, and then there’s the running and screaming.” My mon could not get with the chewing all over things as the puppy got bigger, and Daisy’s bark shook the walls inside and had our neighbors angry when she howled outside.
  The next family dog, when I was 11, was named Tiger. Tiger was a peki-poo that everyone in the family loved. Tiger would always sit directly in my face when I was lying on the floor watching TV, and would go in the alley by himself to do his business and come back home (This was the 70s ya’ll…no pooper scoopers). Tiger loved sitting in the middle of the back yard after the grass was freshly mowed like he was The Lion King. I was in college when Tiger died. My sister was crying hysterically when she called me, saying Tiger went into a corner of the basement (an area he NEVER went before) and laid down for the last time.
When I moved from Chicago to South Carolina to begin a new family/job in 2000, my wife Lisa had a West Highland Terrier named Ocean that she left with me in SC while she went back to Chicago to help Dawn complete her school year. Ocean was awesome. We both loved potato chips, Ocean was quiet enough to sneak into fancy hotels on family trips without the dog barking, and Ocean could sense when any member of the family was not feeling well (she would follow you and demand to be petted) and would snap at anyone we did not agree with (door to door sales people, people petting without homeowner approval). Ocean lived for 18 years; I had to pull over on the side of the highway and compose myself after leaving the animal shelter where I took Ocean when she died (There was a priest at the shelter who prayed over Ocean and for the family).
Our current dog, Marley, is a Yorkshire Terrier -yeah, we keep ’em small and easy to manage. We tried a big dog – we had a Golden Retriever for a year, and I could not deal with the 40 pound sacks of dog food, and our yard was full of holes the dog kept digging. Dawn never saw the movie Marley and Me, and named her dog after Bob Marley as well. Marley is currently three years old, sleeps in my recliner and sits on top of the couch like Snoopy on his doghouse. Marley loves his morning and evening walks and is ready to fight if he feels Dawn, Taylor and I are being threatened (by my wife Lisa). Marley also watches TV – NOT ACTING like he watches television, but actually stares at the screen and jumps like LeBron when other dogs appear on commercials and programs.
What is the common denominator in my dog history? All the dogs mentioned came from litters and were given to my families for FREE. Zero. Free Ninety-Nine. Taylor wants her own dog now and I’m finding that no one just says “anybody want a dog?” anymore. Which would not hurt if the dog was say $25, $50, even close to $100. But $300? $700? One thousand damn dollars??!!
I do appreciate that now people have documentation that dogs have had their necessary vaccinations (a puppy that gets the parvo virus can be devastating), and on those days when you feel the world is against you, your dog loves you no matter what (unlike them leave-me-alone-unless-it’s-time-to-eat felines.). And watching Marley run around the house at top speed when he’s restless or playing with Taylor is what I call The Ultimate Yellow Brick.