Chapter five: boscoe is not lacking in self-esteem

boscoe did not hold the penny incident against us. he loved us from the minute we freed him from the cage, and he loved toby even more. he toddled around the yard after toby, and he curled up tightly next to him when they slept. toby, not used to having his kingdom invaded in this way, generally got up and stalked off, but boscoe just followed behind and cuddled up again.

he loved everything about life--cuddling, playing, eating, pooping, sleeping, chewing and farting. he drank water with gusto. he chased squirrels ineptly but with enthusiasm. he took great delight in everything he did, all the time. i've never met a dog that was so happy, or had fewer neuroses. "look at me!" you could practically hear him crow. "ok, look at me now!" the idea that you might want to do something else once in a while was unthinkable.

he was also smarter than toby, and probably than us, too. he was blessed with those border collie genes, and even at three months he already had complete control over toby. he had generations of border collies behind him, you know. one day i called and called and toby didn't come downstairs, so i got up to see what the trouble was. the trouble was boscoe, trying out his powers.

toby stood on the landing, helplessly trapped, while boscoe--no more than 10 pounds and still covered in that impossibly soft puppy fur--stood at the foot of the stairs, keeping toby immobile with his relentless and intimidating stare.

"boscoe, let him go!" i said, and boscoe turned off the stare. who, me? he asked. toby slunk down the stairs past us and out into the yard.

a few days later we came back from a morning walk. before we could unleash the dogs, boscoe grabbed toby's leash in his mouth and started dragging him around the yard. poor confused toby, being hauled around by a tiny creature a third his size. "drop it!" i yelled, and boscoe immediately dropped the leash. and put his paw on it to hold toby in place. and i swear he grinned. toby, trapped once again, just looked at me, baffled.

who is this hellish creature you have brought in to destroy my life? you could hear him ask. but little by little, boscoe won him over. or wore him down.

it would be an overstatement to say that these dogs taught me to love. but it would not be an exaggeration to say that i learned a lot about love from them. and through their dogness, i became more comfortable with my human-ness.

dogs are never crabby. they're always thrilled to see you, even if you've only been gone for five minutes. toby rocketed into my arms every evening when i came home from work and, sometimes, when i was coming back from getting the newspaper. when i was in the bathroom, he sat outside the door and chirped for me until i came out again. then he rocketed into my arms.

on the couch, boscoe couldn't get comfortable unless he was wedged as tightly next to one of us as possible, usually with his head on a lap or a foot. after growing up in a family that took fighting to a whole new level of sophisticated communication, i had to learn to be comfortable with adoration. it wasn't a bad adjustment.

I also had to get used to the normal messiness of life. you have to clean up after dogs on walks and in the yard; you find yourself monitoring their bodily functions (how many conversations have doug and i had that started, "how was boscoe's poop this evening?"); you endure their belches and their gassiness; and you get over any sensitivity to seeing them lick their privates (frequently), or puke on the bed (seldom).

like the adoration, the funny stories, the floating dog hair and the scatter of Kong balls and puffy toys, it's all part of living with a dog.