Time out. I just have to tell this story. Sorry, it’s about our dog. I’m sure I could find a way to connect it to teaching and all, but really, I just have to share this one.
Backstory:
We got our current dog from the Humane Society about two years ago. Since he’s, you know, a dog, I can use his real name: Cosmo. He came named that way, and yes, it’s after the famed one-trick Seinfeld character. He’s a Jack Russell and MinPin mix (we think), and weighs in at a sleek 17 pounds or so.
Late last summer, the boy volunteered for a week at the shelter and was put in charge of a dog named Kramer. Uh huh. Jack Russell mix, but leaning more toward the wire-haired side. No, it doesn’t just happen in movies… they were brothers. They were brought in together.
So of course everybody says we HAVE to get Kramer too. Great. Two dogs. I’m in… I guess. But the shelter won’t let us just waltz off with him just because they’re brohans. There has to be a supervised meet and greet in one of the pens at the shelter. Fine.
OMG. It was Ultimate Fighting Championship for dogs, and Cosmo was on the short end of it. Snarls and snaps and leash-yanking and whoa Nellie.
So the second adoption was off. Tears and etc. But we couldn’t have coped with that any more than the last family did. All for the best.
The Story:
Now it’s now, and we’re getting ready to take the dawg on a fairly long trip to Utah for camping (as soon as school gets out–my girl likes to plan ahead), and the wife is checking this and thinking about that, with regard to the dog, and she gets the wild hare of an idea to call up the previous owner guy and ask about the whys and wherefores of giving up such cute, but feisty pups.
They fought like that all the time.
Oh.
But in the course of the conversation, the guy is asking which one we have.
“Cosmo.”
“Which one is that?”
“?”
“I’m pretty sure that they messed up the names at the shelter when we brought them in.”
It turns out that they sho nuff did.
The dog we’ve been calling Cosmo for two years was really Kramer, and the mean and vicious one was Cosmo.
D’oh. No wonder he never came when we called him for the first several months.
I’m sure there’s a lesson about seventh graders in there somewhere.
