Apollo Lives

Almost killed the dog today. There was no altercation, he didn’t chew up anything of mine he shouldn’t have, and I certainly know how to keep an even temperament around a 64-pound dog, part pit bull, part Winnie the Pooh. Truth is, I just out and out almost killed the dog. I’m here to tell this story, so that means my grandson, who is the dog’s master, didn’t kill me.

Starts with my daughter, who for years has collected dogs. She has talked her mother into numerous trips to the humane society, brought home plenty of strays of all stripes and breeds, be it dogs, cats, rabbits, gerbils…all have a genuine soft spot within Emily’s loving heart. For three days. That’s generally the limit as far as ownership. Then, the dogs become mine. Won’t tell you any stories of the other critters, but the dogs become mine.

Never wanted a dog in town, too much work and time to properly train and raise a dog. Most dogs like to run to some degree and without a fence, dogs run free. Wish I could run free, but the missus says no. Well, so, here I am walking the dogs, whichever ones have been bestowed upon me at the time.

Maintain a good rapport with your dog. Talk to the little fella, smile, tell a joke, let that guy know how much you care. Keep them informed with what you’re doing at any given time, brushing teeth, cleaning the kitchen, outside work. They do appreciate the attention, helps keep their minds active. Works for me.

I’ve raised five or six dogs here in town. The missus is an equal partner and others help out. The one constant has been the three-day rule for Emily. She’s gone off and gotten married, has kids of her own and, yes, has a dog of her own. Well, to be exact, her daughter does.

Many will read this and wonder why I haven’t called authorities on my daughter for being such a cruel pet owner. Look, I’m doing what I can. This is a story about dogs. If this were a story about Emily, it would fill a book, include way more than dog episodes, and couldn’t even be read by anyone under 21.

I mentioned my grandson earlier. I just turned 70, but the missus and I are raising him. An absolutely fantastic 12-year old with straight A’s in middle school, he’s the one who, with help from me and the missus, walks, feeds, sleeps with, and otherwise maintains Apollo. From the first day Apollo came home, Isaiah took command.

That all started when the wife asked me about bringing home a foster dog. Her request wasn’t merely an ‘oooh, what an idea’ kind of thing. She was hoping to provide a positive strategy to keep the young lad from hibernating in his bedroom with video game bombardment. Rec sports has helped, but we needed something more immediate, something that would spark the boy. Apollo has certainly provided that.

As with most boys around his age, talking back, challenging parameters in dramatic fashion, disregarding rules all are part and parcel of Isaiah’s general makeup. On the good side, lectures and ultimatums work for a while to keep him reigned in. Yet, the overnight sensation happened when the giant Apollo came home.

Apollo has become an integral part of the family and respects Yoda, the small, wizened chihuahua. With Isaiah in school and the missus out and about doing errands, it was critical for me to bring the dogs together for a pow wow. The three of us have gathered for discussions and over time have found common ground. Respect is the key and, while Isaiah is Apollo’s master, I am the Ipso Facto Overlord.

We learned rather early, Apollo is a very vocal dog. Not so much constant barking, but delivering growls, whimpers and emphatic barks as though he is holding court. Not too long after he officially became ours, Apollo introduced to the family a new tradition.

When Isaiah gets off the bus and heads home from school, his dutiful dog is excited as all get out for his bud is home! Apollo is ecstatic, wagging his tail like the blades of a helicopter and letting the barks take on a more communicative and expressive tone. So much so, by the time Isaiah walks through the door, both dogs begin singing and howling with ceremonious flair. Respectfully, I join in to maybe achieve some harmony and in short order whoever is home joins in on the chorus! After a long day, the family is reunited!

If you don’t plan on making a dog an integral part of your daily life, if that pup isn’t a family member with voting rights, well, maybe you should re-evaluate things. No three-day excitement then give it up like my daughter Emily. Learn and experience the work and sacrifice that goes into raising a dog. Feel the excitement and bliss of true unconditional love.

Oh, about this little killing-the-dog thing. Happened one morning after Isaiah had left for school. I was home with the dogs and cleaning up in the house. After dishes and laundry, one of the main chores I like to tackle is digging into the various piles the missus has allowed to propagate throughout the house. If there’s a clear space, she’ll plant a pile of stuff, papers, things. Finding a better home for the contents is sometimes tough. Have to be careful not to give her too much space.

Anyway, one pile in particular that morning looked like it would be easy to tackle. All about moving things here or there, hopefully where they should go. Came across a pack of gum and put it in a smaller pile, ready to transport to somewhere new.

While I was checking laundry or otherwise interrupted from things, Apollo walked by and grabbed the pack of gum…you guessed it, the kind with xylitol, lethal to dogs. The missus returned from errands and I let her know how busy I was when she turned to see Apollo spitting up neon green liquid on the floor.

The next few hours were pricey and rather stressful as we navigated the animal poison control center, vet advice, as well as keeping a close eye on Apollo. Long story short, he swallowed less than a lethal dose for his weight, threw up most of what he ate, and tragedy was avoided.

Later that day, Isaiah came home from school and we all sang heartily.