New Tricks, taught by Old Dogs

I had a good buddy, Arthur, who I worked with back 25 years ago when I was getting my now defunct Banking career started and he had this really cool dog of unknown breed named Fido. Yes, his name was Fido. Arthur was a trust fund guy who really didn't need to work but did so just to please his rich parents and his super-rich grandparents. I was visiting him and his new wife’s house one Saturday to watch college football and toss a few back and noticed his dog was not at home. When I inquired concerning his where abouts, my friend told me he'd sent Fido off to be “trained” at the request of his new bride. I assumed that meant the typical, “heel, sit, roll over, fetch…don’t crap on the floor”, you know, standard operating procedure stuff offered in dog training land.

When the dog returned home a month later, Fido was just as lively and excitable a dog as he had ever been. I was back over for a visit and was greeted by Fido at the door, jumping and slobbering, just like he had every other time I visited. I had been raised with animals around, so Fido and I hit it off immediately. He seemed genuinely glad to see me post doggie boot camp, Fido showing no evidence of human-induced training or restraint. I quietly wondered if my buddy had been flimflammed by the Canine Corps he’d chosen for the task. I asked Arthur if Fido took to the training for which he had paid so dearly, and my friend maintained that he indeed did. He showed me all of Fido’s newly acquired dog commands and I was impressed with all Fido had learned.

During our conversation, Arthur told me his wife had parents that would drop in unannounced and uninvited and he had made provisions in Fido’s training for situations such as that. My inquiry about that specific dog skill and its future implementation was headed from my brain to the downspout of mouth when the doorbell rang and on cue his in-laws showed up.

He looked at me with a big smile and simply said “Oh yes, it’s on…”

Arthur greeted his in-laws like the Southern gentleman he was and asked them to sit. I introduced myself, just in case they might not remember me from the wedding earlier that year. I looked at my friend and proclaimed that I should be going so they could enjoy their time together as a family. My buddy practically kicked me in the knee to get me to stay, so I did. Almost immediately, Arthur’s mother-in-law inquired about Fido’s training and would “someone” show her the net result of said training, with just the very slightest hint of sarcasm tossed in (because that’s what mother-in-laws do).  My buddy obliged her and he and Fido showed us all of his perfectly executed commands. Everyone in attendance was duly impressed.

My buddy’s new bride was making sandwiches for lunch when it happened. The in-laws in question were making their way to the table when my buddy nudged me and said simply “watch this”; a proverbial shit-eating grin smeared across his face and his excited anticipation evident only to yours truly.  I was the only one aware that a game was afoot, and even I didn't know for sure what I was about to witness.

Arthur waited for his mother-in-law to take her seat, then bent over and whispered something to Fido in his doggy ear. As if on cue the dog walked over, mounted, and took to humping the mother-in-law’s leg with such ferocity I thought Fido might break his own back. If you've ever been driving down the road looking at a sports car and noticed the wheels spinning so fast they look as if they are spinning backwards, you’ll know how fast Fido was at the grind. The proper Mother in law just sat for a few minutes, I assumed to allow Fido to have his way and be done with it, but Fido never let up. She sat trying to eat her sandwich with Fido looking like a Texas Oil well trying to pump its payload to the surface or a sewing machine at full throttle double-stitch. She glanced at her husband with a slightly annoyed look assuming he might offer some sort of assistance, but none would come from him.  He was deep into his second bite, and I’m sure the Dagwood sandwich jammed in his face was covering up a gigantic smile or plugging up a belly laugh. I stood there in silence, not daring to say a word. I was in total awe, lite-headed, knowing my poor ass would never own a dog this cool. I noticed my buddy was just standing there, arms crossed and every tooth he had in his head showing from the grin he sported. He looked like he had just commissioned a masterpiece whose beauty had just been revealed to the world. 

Kinda like when a silk cover gets snatched off a new statue...but better.

I admired Arthur’s mother-in-law and her effort to try and maintain a modicum of all things lady-like, considering the harsh conditions she was operating under. Watching her try to get a bite of sandwich in her mouth with it bobbing in her hand, it keeping rhythm with Fido’s perfectly timed strokes, was about as funny a sight as I have ever seen.  Her eyes appeared crossed from trying to focus on her lunch (I assumed as a preventive measure) to keep from poking her eye out with it. It only took a few minutes of this action for the mother-in-law to look at her Husband and say “we need to be going” utilizing all the grace she could muster while stifling a strong hint of urgency.

As Arthur’s in-laws stood to leave his new bride looked in our general direction, wide-eyed and stone faced, and curtly said, “Fido obviously needs to be sent back to training.”

As she was showing her parents to the door he looked at me as solemn as a judge and said quietly:

“That trick cost me an extra five hundred dollars at doggie boot camp, and worth every penny.”