I Love Lucy

I know, I know, chronology. I should go on and tell you about my time growing from a puppy to a full-grown glamour dog. But, this little monster, Goldie, is distracting me and breaking my train of thought.

I love Goldie. I truly do. But as much as I love her and love having her here, lying next to me, having another heart beating beside me when left behind, I am insanely jealous. She is a little imp. She is constantly on their laps and up on the furniture. Being petted, being cute. It makes me crazy. When people come to visit, they all make it about her. Goldie.

They always say “Lucy, you are such a good dog. We love you so much.” But every day since Goldie came, I feel like I’m playing second fiddle. I know, I am being unreasonable. People love puppies. And she is cute. I am doing all the right things. I have taught her not to make poops in the house. She quickly caught on not to do any of her business at all in the house and to follow me out to the dog run where we have free reign to do our business just like Donna and Joe do in their little room in the house in that white thing. I am sure if they could teach us to use that white bowl, we could stay in the house too. We wouldn’t have to go out in the rain. But alas, I understand we are dogs. Four legs. We do our business differently than they do. I have made a study of the white bowl. I don’t think I can make that work.

 So yes, I taught Goldie all about that. She never got yelled at for having accident after accident on the rugs. She also never chewed anything that did not belong to her. I taught her about our toys and our toy basket and shared all my toys with her. She became the perfect puppy who never did any harm and never made a mess. I do get credit for that, at least. Donna always tells people that Goldie is a great puppy because Lucy has taught her everything she knows. Trust me, I have not taught her everything I know. I have my secrets.

Goldie and I are actually related. My father is her grandfather. I was born when he was bred to another Labradoodle female. He lived next door and was Toni, the breeders’ prize dog. Goldie was born to a female offspring of his from a subsequent litter. Bred with a miniature poodle. She is half my size. It makes her cute, but I am still bigger and stronger. If I need to get my way, I can put my paw down. I know why they named her Goldie, but what I do not understand is why she is yellow in the first place. Her mother, Lizzie, who Toni had kept, was grayish brown and black. A lot like me. Remember, Lizzie was my half-sister. I have heard that her father, the mini poodle was red. How do you get a yellow dog out of that? Maybe I’m being lied to. Maybe we are not related. If we are, she’s my niece. “Family.” I hear everyone say, “family is what matters.” I remain jealous. Just like in human families.

There are also little things. Before Goldie when there were leftover scraps after dinner they would go in my bowl. Now I get half. When Donna offers treats, I used to get two. Now I get one and Goldie gets one. I guess they’re too cheap to give us two each. I am slender and beautiful. They must be trying to keep me that way. Goldie looks pudgy to me. They still hover all over her. Okay, she is cute. Have I mentioned that? Do I sound jealous? Joe keeps saying, “Lucy, Why are you jealous? I love you so much. You have no reason to be jealous. I can have two girls in this house that I love, three, if you count Donna.” He says that sometimes Donna thinks I love the dogs more than I love her. Oddly, he never responds to that. I think he does too.

 I have to say one of the funny things about having Goldie around is our morning dog walk. Donna always walks me in the morning after breakfast. I am perfect on a walk, slack leash, always obey the wait and stay command and rarely pull on my leash. (except when an aroma overwhelms me.) But when Goldie was added to the mix, then you have trouble. She does not know about walking on a leash. This time, I’m playing dumb and not teaching her. She is on her own. I like it when Donna gets mad at her. She does not know the heel command. I might say she is pudgy, but really, she is like a bulldog doodle. Built low to the ground and strong. Sometimes, it looks like Donna’s arm is going to come out of its socket. The bad part, I am also being dragged down the street as Donna tries to control this crazy little puppy.

When Donna and Joe both walk us, they each take a dog. Joe takes me unless he is in the mood for a challenge. It is Donna who is taking Goldie to puppy school, so she insists on walking her just for the practice. If they could hear me laugh, they would get mad at me. But I am laughing on the inside. Donna gets so frustrated and says bad words. I have heard a few new ones which are expanding my vocabulary in case they take me to a bar near a naval base.

I heard them say they named her Goldie, not just because she is a little yellow dog, but because there is this comedian named Goldie Hawn and they said this little dog is funny just like her. I have not heard any jokes. I do not find her funny, just annoying. My folks are funny about names. It seems they named me Lucy because it was fun to say, ” I love Lucy.” They would laugh, and say “I love Lucy,” over and over. As if it would mean something to me.

I have failed to mention my one obsession. Okay, I’m not perfect. If I see a ball, I pick it up in my mouth and will not let go. Do not ask me why? If someone tries to pull it out, my reflex action is to clamp down.You would think it was food. I do drop it at their feet when we get to the park so one of them can throw it. My obsession also includes “fetch.” I bolt away when an arm goes back to make a throw and try to leap and grab the ball in the air after its first bounce. Joe always claps and hollers when I do that. I do bring it right back and I do drop it somewhat near where they are standing. I will not drop it at their feet. I like to make them work a little. Admitting my obsession is a big deal. So far, this remains just a Lucy thing. Joe often reminds Donna what a great name they picked for me. Something about “Lucy Ball.”

Goldie ignores the game and just wanders around the park with her nose to the ground. I already know all those smells. This is also the only time she is off-leash and in a large open space. I could see her checking to see if the ball game had distracted Donna and Joe enough for her to sneak away for some solo exploring. They were too good at this drill. Every few minutes I would hear, “Goldie, get back over here.” I would chase the ball again and again, without regard to my well-being. I must be collapsed to the ground, unable to rise to end the game.

 When it’s time to leave I continue my obsessive behavior. I will not drop the ball and I won’t unclench my jaw. They usually give up trying to pull it out. Joe drops my leash and walks away. “Goodbye Lucy,” he would say. There is something about the way he says that and turns away. Now, to add to that, there is Goldie, on the leash, ready to go home, grinning like suddenly she is the good dog. The grown-up. And I, queen of the castle, am the village idiot. Of course, my brain then clears, I drop the ball and trot over to them, letting my tail wag freely. I look up with loving eyes and attempt to convey, “What? You guys are ready to go? Me too.”