Autobio. Week 14
Point of View

By Carolyn C

Friskie

We disagreed on some things, my husband and I. The kids and I wanted a dog. He didn’t. He didn’t want the responsibility of a pet, but since he was home so seldom, I thought his opinions were invalid. I thought the kids and I needed a dog for protection and safety. The kids wanted canine companionship.

We had had two cats when we lived in our house in California. We had to leave them behind when my husband’s company transferred us to Minnesota. We lived in an apartment for a couple of years until we finally found a house. A house with an empty back yard required a pet. The kids tried to convince their dad to approve the acquisition of a puppy. I cheered them on.

One week when my husband was out of town, my son and daughter, ages eight and nine, and I decided we had waited long enough to add a puppy to our family. We went to the Hennepin County Animal Shelter in downtown Minneapolis.

Litters of tiny, soft, wiggly or slumbering canines slept in clusters in warm cages.
Puppies have a special scent, an innocent fragrance. I wanted to take every one of them home with me. It took us a long time to select one lucky little pup. She was not one of the frisky pups in her cage. She was a docile, quiet puppy, a black and white beagle/mix. We filled out the papers, paid a small fee, and carried her to our car. Within minutes this new member of our family became active, like a wind-up toy, jumping from my son to my daughter. They called her Friskie.
Everything went well with our new puppy. She announced her need to go outside by hitting the springy door stop. It sent a vibrating sound throughout the house, audible from any floor. She ate well, slept in my son’s room and made herself quite comfortable in her new home.

A few days later, my husband called. I knew I had to tell him about the new puppy. I had prepared my strategy.
“I need to tell you something,” I said. “You won’t like it. In fact, you might be very upset.”
“Just tell me.”
“Well, you know how you’ve said that our family should stay at four.” (make him think the worst)
“Oh, no. You’re pregnant?”
“Well, not really.” (keep him in suspense)
“Just tell me.”
“We do have a new little family member…” (keep him guessing)
“And?”
“We’ve adopted a puppy.”
Silence on the other end of the phone. A long silence.
“Wait until you see her. She is smart, affectionate, and adorable.”
“Oh great, it’s a she? You got a female?”
“You’ll love her. She’s bonded with the kids. She has already trained herself. (get off the subject now. move on to another subject ) So what exciting things are happening to you on the road this week?”

Like endearing family pets can do, they become a critical part of their family. Friskie was no exception. She enjoyed the good life. She went with us in the car, sat on a blanket with me as I watched my son’s little league practices, enjoyed rides in the basket of my daughter’s bicycle, played in the snow with the kids, and in the hot summer weather she went for a swim in the creek beside our house. The kids and I were amazed at her extraordinary intelligence. My husband, however, seldom said anything good or complimentary about the puppy and reminded us that he never wanted a dog and now we had a dog with a stupid name. Friskie pretended not to hear him and just became smarter, cuter, more protective than ever.

One evening, years later, when my husband was out of town, Friskie warned me of a back yard intruder. The kids and I knew Friskie’s bark and she was announcing danger. We heard a male voice coming from the back yard, commanding our dog to shut up. I called the police who surrounded our home within minutes. The neighborhood was searched as the intruder moved from one back yard to the next, down the block. The police followed the warnings from other barking dogs that lived in each of the homes. As the police were searching our back yard, my husband called from another state. I explained our situation to him. He sounded concerned. Before he hung up, he said, “I’m glad you’ve got a good watch dog there with you.”

I knew he’d come around, eventually.