IT'S A DAD'S LIFE:The dog is pregnant and the kids are asking all kinds of questions, writes ADAM BROPHY
LOTS OF PEOPLE have said to me that having a pet is a wonderful learning experience for children. Mine have fish and a dog. If they were held responsible for the feeding of either, as they are supposed to be, both would have starved long ago.
The fish lost their lustre way back, probably because their tank’s glass is impenetrably filthy. The cleaning duty has also fallen on me and it’s not one I relish. Yet they’re like cockroach-after-a-nuclear-strike fish – they just won’t die and I can’t bring myself to flush or starve. They will have to go naturally.
The dog, though, is gorgeous. Stupid, really stupid, but gorgeous. She has managed to wriggle into their hearts, in so far as they rush to see her and squeal when they get in from school. Not so much that they feed her and walk her. That falls to their mother. As does the relentless cleaning up of excrement, because even after two years the dog still sometimes doesn’t quite make it outside, especially if it’s wet and cold out there.
Because she’s delicate, and very stupid.
So, I’m at a bit of a loss as to how a dog in general provides some sort of learning experience for kids. She provides a lot of hair and no end of saliva that she loves to slobber over all of us, but not much in the way of education.
Until now that is, now that she’s gone and got herself knocked up. Our first teen pregnancy and hopefully the last. Not only is she stupid, she’s a bit of a slapper.
Even as I write this I’m a little nervous because I’ve learned from experience that the first mention of ambivalence towards pets brings out the animal brigade.
I could write about locking my kids in the attic 364 days a year and not raise a single protest in response, but suggest that my dog bugs me and the inbox will be afloat with threats and declarations that I should be tarred, feathered and fed Pedigree Chum for the duration of my days.
I will be reliably informed that there is no such thing as a stupid dog, only stupid owners. In capital letters, with a random sprinkling of exclamation marks.
In a bid to cut the Barbara Woodhouse apostles off at the pass, here are the facts. The dog is stupid and pregnant and gorgeous. Pet-wise, yes I too am quite stupid and naive to have let her get into this state. I should have had the job done before the opportunity arose and a shaggy Shih Tzu Lothario got his paws on her.
But he did, and if I could, I would now put a shotgun to his temple and inform him he has a family coming and he better get used to the responsibility. But I can’t, and instead our utility room is being turned into a Christmas manger as we await the arrival of our illegitimate, trailer-trash cross Dachshunds-Shih Tzus. Say that when you’ve had a feed of moonshine.
She’s got fat and she waddles round the house looking at us with eyes like the cat in Shrek. She’s under our feet all the time (mainly because she has the turning circle of the Lusitania), she mooches everywhere, squeaking sad whines. These whines sound to me like: “Hey, why has this happened? I should be out clubbing with my mates, not stuck inside with swollen ankles and varicose veins.”
Finally, the learning has come. Now that she’s all dopey and sad, and following me round as if I’m a perma-bag of cooked ham, she’s only gone and gotten impossibly cute again. Not only that, but she’s finally figured out how the toilet thing works. And because she’s up the duff, she’s over scratching at the door every 15 minutes. I don’t want to drown her anymore – in fact, if I could, I’d be giving her little foot massages and bringing her whatever would satisfy the ridiculous cravings she is undoubtedly enduring.
The kids are interested, astounded at her girth and gobsmacked at the possibility of the number that might be in there. The unexpected pregnancy has led to a number of interesting dinner table conversations, my favourite being: “Can dogs be lesbians?” Watching an eight and a five year old chewing over this topic over was one of the highlights of 2009. Conclusion: “Why not, but the pups need a daddy.” Oh, you betcha.
I’ve experienced the cycle of the father of the pregnant teen. From rage to disbelief to acceptance and joy. A wonderful learning, only with a few pups at the end. Now, who wants one?