It was in early May and Tess was returning home from a week-long business trip when she called to tell me what time she expected to arrive, a courtesy to allow me time to disperse the hookers and hide the cocaine or, perhaps, vice versa.
“Oh, and I have a surprise for you,” she said.
I didn’t press her, but my first thought was, “God, I hope it’s not a Peloton.”
My second thought was that she had acted on an off-hand comment I had made to her a few days before. I told her I was missing our dachshund, Dooley, who had passed away about six months earlier.
I’ve long since lost count of how many dogs I have owned in my lifetime. It started with Buddy, a Boston Terrier, who arrived when I was 4 and was the dog of my childhood and all of the boy-and-his-dog adventures that entails.
I’ve also had a Basset Hound, a Redbone Hound, a Wire Fox Terrier, a Cocker Spaniel, a Husky, a Chihuahua, a Great Dane, a Black Lab and an assortment of loveable mixed-breeds. But Buddy, being the first, and Dooley, being, well, the “Dooley-est,” hold special places in my heart.
My mention of Dooley, along with the fact that our dog inventory has dipped to a dangerously low level of four, led me to conclude that Tess was bringing home a puppy.
A few hours later, my suspicion was confirmed. Tess stepped through the door. In her arms, was a fat little English Bulldog puppy, whose fawn-and-white coloring closely resembles that of Jak, Mississippi State’s mascot from 2015 until this spring.
It’s odd that I have never had an English Bulldog, given my ties to MSU. Our family has been producing Mississippi State graduates since 1959, including me and four siblings, numerous cousins, two nephews and three nieces. A great niece is a sophomore engineering major at State.
It took only a minute to arrive at a name for our new pet – Fred, named in honor of my late brother, who was devoted to all things Mississippi State and, especially, bulldogs. He took great delight in pet-sitting his daughter’s English Bulldog, Smoot.
Fred is six months old now and I’ve learned a lot.
If limited to a one-word description of Fred – and the breed, I suppose – it would be phlegmatic. Since the day Fred arrived, there has been no encounter or situation that has prompted any discernible change in his demeanor. That same dour expression remains, no matter the circumstance.
When the cat uses his nose as if it were a boxer’s speed bag or the Chihuahua goes into a frothing fit of snarling, jaw-snapping aggression, Fred merely blinks dully and edges closer, neither frightened nor offended, merely inquisitive.
On his first day with us, we took him into the back yard to acquaint him with Jolene, the 120-pound Great Dane, and Jasper, the 80-pound Black Lab.
Jolene and Jasper spend most of their non-sleeping hours engaged in mock battle, snapping and snarling and crashing into each other like a pair of canine sumo wrestlers.
After the obligatory sniffs of the new arrival, Joelene and Jasper resumed their warfare. Fred took this in for a moment, then thrust his 14 pounds into the 200-pound collision, disappearing into the melee only to come flying out of the scrum, tumbling across the yard in a most undignified manner. To this, he simply shook his head as if to gather his senses and lumbered right back into the fray with not so much as a whimper – a chubby little stoic warrior. I’ve yet to hear a yelp or a cry, even though he’s still a pup.
Other observations:
Fred’s table manners are atrocious. He buries his face into the food bowl. He doesn’t eat. He Hoovers. When drinking, he snorkels. It’s like having a shop vac for a pet.
In his six months, Fred has yet to go around, over or under anything that might materialize between Point A and Point B. His path is always through. He doesn’t maneuver. He plows. He is a stout 40 pounds now and more powerful than he realizes.
Fred is never duplicitous or conniving. He is sometimes aloof, but never distant. He is sincere and, in his own understated way, affectionate.
I think we are going to be the best of friends, me and Fred.
He’s a heck of a lot better than a Peloton, that’s for sure.
Slim Smith is a columnist and feature writer for The Dispatch. His email address is [email protected].
Slim Smith is a columnist and feature writer for The Dispatch. His email address is [email protected].
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