Chase, the Two-Hundred Pound Retriever

My son and daughter-in-law have a dog the size of a cow;
(or is it the other way round?). Conversely, we own a dog
of the same breed, a tiny Golden the size of a large rat.
Their dog's name is Chase. I suppose because he might have liked
to chase things at an early age; or they may have named him Chase
and then he needed to chase things to live up to his name.
Which he has. Chase chases air, other dogs, birds, amphibians,
flies, sounds, and his tail. Emily picked the name, which is a good
thing, because my son wanted to call him Duncan. Duncan is perhaps
the worst name for a dog imaginable. Duncan come. Duncan sit.
Duncan have a donut. On the other hand, Chase's girlfriend is named
Dolly, and there's definite chemistry in the pairing of Duncan and Dolly.
Aaron and Emily now live in Copenhagen. A large city with unaffordable
houses and apartments that are small and rents that are large.
Aaron and Emily have a one bedroom house with a family room
which has a sofa bed with tremendous folding and unfolding capacity
(from IKEA). This is where I sleep (in the unfolded mode) when I
come to visit. Sometimes Chase joins me in the room, his loud breathing
provides the perfect metronome to induce sleep. However, in the middle
of the night, Chase hops on my sofa bed and sleeps across my torso,
which invariably ends my night's sleep (once he is up, he cannot be
moved except by paging his owners, which a guest may not do at 3am).
Chase has been a little off, the past few days, vomiting in various
public places, pooping on sidewalks or on their neighbor's lawn.
When this happens, Emily commands Aaron to pick it up, or scoop
it up, or wash it out with copious volumes of water. I offer to help,
but give in readily and then put my nose into a book or open
my computer. Chase is a very well-behaved dog, unless he's bored
or has eaten bones or someone's discarded pizza (see above regarding
vomiting habits). The dog is a perfect gem... but this pooping thing
at all hours. "Aaron, he's pooping." "Get some water...!" But Emily
is nine months pregnant. She can say whatever she wants.
Today we will walk the dog 10 or 15 miles, hop on a train to meet
Aaron in downtown Copenhagen and have lunch outside somewhere.
Chase will accompany us the whole time and be a good dog.
I do hope he holds everything in.


Edward Nudelman, May 2, 2009

My father-in-law, a published poet, wrote this for me this morning. (There may be some general exaggeration for effect, but you get the idea.)


If you want to check out more of his poetry, you can check it out here.