You haven’t experienced truly unconditional love until you’ve been chosen by a dog.
We have a dog named “Bacon”. My wife and daughter found her at the pound, a wondrous place that offers loving animals to caring people. After bringing home this miniscule puppy, which nestled neatly within the palm of my hand, we soon entered naming negotiations…
My wife and middle daughter were advocating the name “Blondie”. After a single look at the little dog comfortably sleeping in my hand, I decided that since she so strongly resembled a piece of bacon, “Bacon” would be more appropriate. My wife then made the mistake of calling a family vote. {A mistake, since I have no qualms about manipulating matters to suit myself. :)}.
With my wife, Suzanne, and our middle daughter, Dannielle, comfortably resting upon the laurels of a sure win, I took my son and youngest daughter aside, in order to explain the obscure construct of “voting” to them.
“A vote,” I explained, “is a great thing. Everyone’s opinion counts equally. It’s nothing like normal, where your Mom makes the decisions and we all pretend to like it.”
Both nodded sage agreement.
Having adeptly planted the seeds of discontent, I went on to explain a little about the nature of the particular vote we were so lucky to have, “We get to choose the name for our new dog! Your mom and sister want to name her Blondie…” I paused to let them grant this preposterous suggestion the scant consideration it was due.
They looked at me as if to ask, ‘Is that not a fine name for a dog?’
I nodded slowly before continuing “… which is a perfectly good name for a dog, after all many people have named their dogs ‘Blondie’.” They smiled, and nodded. This was true.
“But…” Both immediately recognized the caveat they so often used to explain that which was self-evident to any reasonable person. With their full attention upon me, I went on “…but since she is a unique dog, maybe she should have a unique name.” A pause, and a smile as I conjured the dog’s image with words, “She looks just like a piece of fresh bacon, doesn’t she?”
Two nods of agreement. She did indeed look very much like a piece of fresh bacon – pristine white streaked with bits of pinkish brown.
Content, I said no more and waited till my wife called “the vote.”
I remained silent as Suzanne smiled knowingly at our favorite middle daughter, before saying, “We’re voting to name the dog. Everyone who thinks ‘Blondie’ is a good name, raise your hand.” Perfectly on cue two hands raised, Suzanne’s and Dannielle’s.
Into the wide eyed surprise of my wife, I quickly said, “Or if you think ‘Bacon’ is better, then wait.”
Only two hands remained raised, and thus did our dog win her name – Bacon.
Bacon loves us all. Yet some, she loves more equally than others.
If you haven’t been adopted by a dog, take yourself off to your nearest animal shelter and see if one might bark for you.
I *love* this story.
How many other times have you unduly influenced the family voting process? 😀
🙂 at every opportunity I get.
I felt my earlier reply did not do justice to the question on voting rights…
So, at every possible opportunity, Lydia. You see, us underdog males have to use every tactic at our disposal to have any hope of standing even an unfair chance. But I console myself with the knowledge that a family unit is not a democratic enterprise. Indeed, I don’t really know if any society anywhere is ever truly democratic. It seems to me that they all have exclusions that render the intended democracy, undemocratic.
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