My Marley

About  2 years ago, my daughter began a campaign to get a second dog. Of course, she wanted a small little “cute” dog but every breed she chose seemed to be the type that disliked larger dogs. We already had a labrador retriever, Betsy, and she was much loved by us.  So, any other dog that was to enter the house was going to have to get along with Betsy.

The search for Betsy’s friend and my daughter’s dog continued. During the search there were all manner of promises made about who would be responsible for walking and feeding the dog, who would train the dog etc. The outcome of those discussions were always the same, 
“the dog will be mine. She will be my responsibility. I will take care of her every need and I will train her,” swore my daughter.

Alas, this story, as so many other tales we have heard  ends in a not so surprising way. We got the dog, another lab. Indeed, a yellow lab and named her Laylah. She is much nuttier than my sweet Betsy but she is a very sweet dog; Wired tight might be a good way to describe Laylah.

The wonderful exciting day of her arrival came and my son, my daughter, and myself drove to get the puppy. The next morning my daughter left for several weeks.  That left my son, home on vacation and myself to take care of this baby dog.  That was difficult at best. I was up every night in the middle of the night walking the puppy. By the end of the first month I thought I would collapse from exhaustion. I hadn’t been prepared to take care of a baby. 

The months have come and gone and Laylah has turned 1 year old. She is better behaved than she used to be, but like so many retrievers she has a nasty habit of chewing on anything and everything.  She has destroyed countless pairs of shoes, important papers, parts of walls and sides of door frames and anything else she can manage to ingest. Betsy had her moments as well, she had a knack for finding prescription medication.  Laylah also loves to eat poison mushrooms. One would think the dog would remember she gets very ill when she munchies on certain things growing in the grass.

Still, with all her craziness, she is a sweet loving dog– my daughter hates her. Ms L can be mean to the dog and yell at her when the poor creature hasn’t done anything wrong.  Laylah was lying under my desk just prior to this blog post when Ms. L marches into my office.

“Laylah come here,” Ms. L demands. Laylah gets up. “Sit down,” my daughter demands. Laylah sits. Ms. L pulls out a pair of ear phones that Laylah has decided were worth chewing. Dangling the wires and chewed ear phones in Laylah’s face,  Ms. L says “Bad dog,” 

Ms. L doesn’t understand that the moment for reprimands has passed. The dog has no idea what the issue is now.  I come to Laylah’s rescue and Ms. L , who lobbied so hard for “her dog,” storms out of my office stating “I hate her.”  

It is a good thing that Laylah is so cute or she might not get away with so much bad behavior. Actually, it is amazing that she has lived through the first year. Still, when she comes and lies next to you and puts her head on your leg it is tough to be angry with her. She is cute and  after all she is a silly yellow lab. She is my Marley.

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