The "Dog" Dog Debate

The boyfriend and I have had more than a few discussions now about potential dog ownership (this is exactly a few more discussions than we’ve had about babies, thank goodness). The talks are interesting ones, for many reasons, not least of which is that they are both serious and not. Responsibilities are weighed, but so are sillier things: we discuss how names like “Coach” would allow the boyfriend to get “pep talks” from the dog (“Hey, Coach, I’m feeling down”). We generally come to the same agreement: Dogs are great. They’re a big deal. We’ll get one at some point. That point is not now.

These discussions are also pretty indicative of our relationship in general. It’s healthy, and full of things that are both serious and playful. But the one dog-related point of contention that we cannot settle on might be a clincher: He wants a Dog dog. I want an easy dog.

There is a simple reason for this—he has never owned a dog before. His mom is an avid West Highland Terrier fan (there’s a Westie themed bathroom in the house) and his parents have a Westie named Shona. Growing up, however, he and his brother never had a dog. This means that our dog will be his first dog. So he wants a Dog dog.

What is a Dog dog? Well, when you teach a kid to draw a dog, it’s usually a furry, long-eared, long-snouted, happy, tail-wagging pooch. A variation on a lab. A dog you can picture running in a field, chasing a ball. The dog that well-adjusted nuclear families have on TV (like Comet on Full House). If you’ve never had a dog, and you’re still a little boy inside (as the boyfriend is), then this is the dog you want.

However, if you come from a past of many, many dogs, both Dog dogs and otherwise, then you’ve seen some things. You* know what you like and don’t like. You want easy. You want low key. You want shorthaired. You want the opposite of Dog dog.

So what’s going to happen here? Are the boyfriend and I doomed to part, living our sad separate existences, because we couldn’t agree on a pooch for us?

Probably not. Like most other things, we’ll probably figure it out. We’ll either wait until we can agree, or, more likely, we’ll become a due-dog organization. I can see it now: He’ll be tossing a ball to Coach on the lawn while Jean-Luc Picard and I are sunning on the deck. Nothing wrong with that.

* And by you, I mean the universal You. By which I mean me.