What to get your dog for their birthday
This week’s question comes to us from Mathias Rechtzigel:
What should I get my dog for his birthday?
Fifteen years ago today, we went out for brunch and came back with a dog. My wife and I had just moved in together. Our apartment was still floor-to-ceiling moving boxes. Clothes were draped over every surface as we negotiated a total lack of closets. And we were bringing even more boxes, filled with take-out, into the house because we had no idea which of the KITCHEN MISCELLANEOUS boxes had the shit we needed to cook a meal. So on this particular Saturday morning we decided, fuck it, let’s go out for brunch like the bougie assholes we were soon destined to become.
Our walk took us past the local pet store, where as luck would have it, the local pet rescue outfit was having an adoption show. There were a couple of little fenced-in areas, each with a very tolerant human handler, and about a half dozen puppies absolutely losing their shit because they were outside and being outside was amazing. Surrounding the fences were locals, most of whom were just looking for an opportunity to pet a puppy (fair) and possibly a few folks serious about getting a puppy, as well as a couple of children who very much wanted to be in the latter group, but whose parents had very much slotted them into the former group.
We were in a third group. The “stumbling upon this on our way to brunch” group. Here’s the thing, though. If I’m in charge of that rescue outfit, this is the group I take seriously. This group is what you call “marks.” Suckers. The other groups create a little bit of a crowd, but one group’s just here for the vibes, and the other group probably has a very specific checklist of what they’re looking for. Not us though. We walked right up to those puppies like the total suckers that we are. We took one look at all the puppies playing with each other, tumbling around, having a good time, tongues out, ears flapping, tails wagging, and we were delighted. Then we saw one stupid little idiot sitting by himself, taking everything in, judging all the other puppies for being fucking extra, looking low-key annoyed, and we simultaneously realized we were getting a dog. And not just a dog, we were getting that dog. We took him for a test-drive around the block, and that was it. Fifteen years ago to this day.
Never did get brunch.
In the fifteen years since, Rupert (it took us a few days to name him) has jumped out of a second-story window, fallen out of a bike trailer in traffic, survived a pit bull attack (I blame the owner, not the dog), a pork bun incident, and single-handedly attempted to outlaw skateboarding within city limits. We’ve spent mornings in the park. We take rides to the beach. We listen to music together. We’ve shared a thousand meals. We’ve gotten yelled at by neighbors for peeing on their flowers. (It’s a city, Jan.) We’ve gone on road trips. But mostly we just hang. Happy to be in each other’s company.
And I tell you this with all seriousness, I don’t know if I’ve made him a better dog because he was always a good dog, but he has certainly made me a better person.
Fifteen years in, Rupert doesn’t run like he used to. He has to get lifted onto the couch. His eyes aren’t as good as they used to be, and his hearing is going. To be honest, we’ve both lost a step. We’re getting older, and that’s ok. Because we’re getting older together.
So, to answer your question… what should you get your dog for his birthday? Whatever he fucking wants.
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