Book of Resolutions

Chapter 4

APRIL

April was my choice for an activity. I had given it a great deal of thought.

"You're always complaining about Sam not obeying you. I think we should take him to one of those dog-training classes."

Sam was my dog, who had been rescued as a puppy from Rose Creek. He started as a tiny ball of brown and white fluff, a pitiful little runt. But then, he grew. And grew. And grew some more. Now Sam weighed about 170 pounds. The vet couldn't determine his exact lineage, although he had some characteristics that appeared to be Great Dane, other characteristics of a Saint Bernard, and a few characteristics of some sort of pony. Sam loved me and reverted to puppyish behavior when near me; due to his size, this led to some unfortunate incidents from time to time. He didn't like Ben very much and the feeling was mutual.

Sam was mostly a good-natured dog but had a few quirks. He worshipped my old cat, Snookums, as a deity. He groveled humbly at Snookums feet and refused to eat his food until Snookums sniffed it and disdainfully dismissed it, giving Sam permission to eat. Poor Sam was terrified of thunder and stormy nights were a nightmare. Normally he loved his own bed, but at the first rumble of thunder, he would jump into my bed, between me and Ben, and attempt to dig his way under the covers. He wanted to keep his face as close to mine as possible, often ending with his—er, other end, on Ben's face. I wonder which one of them acted like the biggest baby on such occasions.

Ben had developed an animosity toward Sam, and his acrimonious comments toward me regarding Sam's behavior were interpreted, by Sam, as an attack on his Mama. Being a Mama's Boy, Sam took grave exception to Ben's attitude. The result was that Sam's dislike for Ben grew and, in the spirit of reciprocity, Ben's dislike for Sam grew as well. I allowed Sam to roam at will in the house with the result of some lively skirmishes between the two.

Ben agreed that training Sam would be a good project. He reasoned that he could establish himself as dominant and, at the same time, although he didn't mention it out loud, he seemed to calculate that he could win brownie points with me. I signed us up for classes; however, there was a bit of an argument regarding transportation to the classes.

Ben and I owned two vehicles: his enormous pick-up truck and my tiny Volkswagen Beetle. Ben hated riding in my Beetle, citing the length of his legs and the way his head brushed the ceiling. So, he proposed that we take his truck. I agreed, but it seems there had been some miscommunication. When we went to get into his truck, I opened the door and invited Sam to jump up inside.

"No, Lou. Sam's riding in the back."

"What?"

"I'm not letting that beast in the cab of my truck."

"He can't ride back there!"

"Why not?"

"It's raining."

"Just a sprinkle!"

"He might fall out!"

"I agree, he could hurt the pavement but..." I hate it when Ben snarks like that.

"I think it's illegal in the city unless he has a crate."

"Why didn't you buy him a crate?"

"Well, he's just a teeny-weeny bit too big for a crate." I turned to Sam: "Him was a big boy! Yes, him was!"

"But how did you think..."

"In front with us!"

"I'm not having that filthy..."

"Watch who you call filthy! I gave him a bath so he'd look nice on his first day of school!"

"He sheds!"