My name is Jon and I am a glutton for punishment. Over the years, my family and I have been owners of nine dogs, specifically three Black and Tan Coonhounds, three Basset Hounds, and three mix breeds of uncertain origin. Recently, our college age son Will decided to branch out and have a dog of his own. Skeptical that any college housing landlord about allow a dog in his rental, my wife Janet and vetoed the college dog request forthwith.
Several weeks following our “final” decision, Will began texting, emailing and “tweeting” us with photos of sad looking Labrador Retrievers in need of a new home. While we are supporters of all animal rescue efforts, Janet and I stood fast in the ranks as the missives kept coming. I don’t know how Will became so expert in leveraging guilt, but I suspect it has something to do with my ancestors who wandered the desert for forty years, blaming Moses for not packing a map. When Will assured us that the landlord would welcome a pooch, Janet and I began to relax our stance just a little.
Janet and I battled through the communication siege valiantly, until Will opted to deploy his primary weapon; i.e. asking for a dog for his birthday. Worn down and out of ammo, we surrendered at daybreak and prepared our search for dog number ten. After all, the pup would be with Will at school most of the year, right? Why were we being so resistant to supply him some furry happiness?
All three of us drove down to Charlotte, North Carolina during Will’s winter break, selected a big, happy one-year old lummox of a Lab, which Will named “Easton” (after the baseball bat company of choice) and headed for home. Easton’s unbridled enthusiasm became apparent immediately, knocking me down twice in the shelter and once on the way to the car.
Upon arriving home with our four pawed buddle of joy, Janet and I immediately began to re-think this whole situation. Two of our dogs (Roscoe and Mya) are older hounds who are content to sleep most of the day away with few, if any, distractions, and Cali, our six month old Coonhound puppy, was beginning to adopt that same hound dog lifestyle quite nicely as well. Could an infusion of Lab insanity (even for a short interval) throw this delicate order into madness? During the week preceding Will’s return to school for the spring semester, we would have our answer.
Allow me to recite to you a brief damage report; regarding the canine Janet which aptly dubbed “The Beast.” In his brief stay, Easton has managed to destroy three years of intact doggy toys faster than I could say “What is that in your mouth”? This Rhinoceros headed wrecking crew bolted through our house like a lighthearted Buffalo, destroying all he surveyed. Worse, his boyish charm has captured the heart of our youngest, turning Cali into his shrill barking sidekick.
Wading through the carnage, Janet and I counted the days until Beast headed northward. Making sure his departure was clean and confirmed, we drove worst nightmare to California, Pennsylvania and personally delivered him to Will.
We were now officially out of the Lab business.
The next morning before we left for home, Janet received an early phone call from Will, who usually sleeps until 2:00pm. “This couldn’t be good news,” I thought. Due to a misunderstanding with his landlord, Easton would not be able to stay in his apartment after all. As tears welled in Janet’s and my eyes, somewhere back home, a sixth-month female Coonhound waited for her accomplice to return and resume their campaign of terror.
– Jon Kaufman
