Jennifer Ammoscato

Aspiring author. Successful chocoholic. Debut novel "Dear Internet: It's Me, Avery." May 2014

Love me, love my dog (or how my husband ruined a perfectly well-trained pooch)

on March 18, 2014

Some days I suspect that my husband married me for my dog. (Oh, sorry, our dog).

When Riley the Wonder Lab met my then-boyfriend, she growled. Then she sniffed a little harder, smelled “Sucker”, and thus began their unspoken agreement. He loves her unconditionally and she lets him. (Yes, yes, darling, of course she loves you too. I’m just making a point.)

Each day, late in the afternoon, Riley lies by the front door, gazes through its glass panels and keeps watch on the house while waiting for her hero to come home.

And, each day, late in the afternoon, she barks like the killer that she thinks she is when his car pulls into the driveway. The death growl ends the moment she hears the garage door open.

At that point, her brain is overwhelmed with the possibilities that my husband’s arrival brings. As he progresses through the house from family room to hall closet to kitchen, she is his happy, wagging shadow. What cupboard door will he open? What magic awaits?

“Does my puppy want a treat?”

That’s like asking if a woman plagued by PMS wants chocolate. (No, I’m not comparing women to dogs. I’m just making a point!)

It won’t stop there. She will lie by her food dish, knowing that he will sprinkle his special brand of awesome on her dinner too. “Care for some steak and eggs with that kibble, puppy?” (Okay, that was my idea. Bad habits rub off. I’m just making a point.)

Riley has become so accustomed to my husband’s willingness to make her meals exciting, that no matter how great they taste to begin with, she’ll eat some and then back away to see what else he’ll do to lure her. He finally began just pretending to add something to the dish by gesturing over it.

And she falls for it. (I love her but she’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer.)

After dinner, she has us (really him) trained to let her out and, when she comes back inside, fetch her a cookie. Once in a while, my husband, tired at the end of a long day, will look to me to do it. No dice.

“You created the monster, you can deal with it.” Before he came along, she had no concept of being fed right from the table, jumping on the couch (that I knew of), or chicken piccata. Now, she’s living the life of…well…Riley.

He pretends to complain about her demanding nature and then scratches her head and rubs her tummy. (Come to think of it, similar to how he deals with his wife.)

In fact, sometimes, I’m not sure who he’s talking about. Not long ago, we were sitting on the couch, the dog at our feet, enjoying the fireplace.

Him: “Hello, beautiful.”

Me: “You’re talking to the dog, aren’t you?”

Him: “I think you’re beautiful, too, dear.”

2010-10-07 18.49.38



One response to “Love me, love my dog (or how my husband ruined a perfectly well-trained pooch)

  1. Jolene says:

    Hahaha cute story….my husband is the same way, he spoils our furkids rotten!! (i wouldn’t have it any other way though)….but last week he took it to a new level, he called me to tell me to tell Penny (our cat) that he was sorry for losing his cool that morning.

    Here is the post …

    Liked by 1 person

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