How My Puppy Set Me Straight Over a Few Matters of Ownership

A reflection on our dog and all the joy he brings

On the way home from dropping off my kids, I came to a stop sign and began to reflect. As always Kuzo sat beside me in the passenger’s seat. He sits there staring ahead as if he knows what’s going on. Perhaps he does. Sometimes he’s aloof, and refuses to make eye contact with me.

I looked over at him and wondered, “Of all the members of our family, who do you belong to?”

Kuzo licked his lips and looked away.

At first I reasoned he must belong to me. After all, he spends all day waiting for me to figure out what he needs.

He comes along for drop off and pick up, marching like a general overseeing his troops. He rouses himself before my alarm goes off to signal it’s time to go. He’s better than the clock in many ways. He suffers no distractions nor delays.

Faithfully, he accompanies me when I have to make a grocery run. He waits patiently in the parking lot, and looks at me with something less than excitement when I emerge after I’m done.

If he senses I’m getting ready for a walk, he becomes stuck to my leg as if fearful I might get away. If I do have to go, and I can’t take him with. He stands in the kitchen regarding me as if he’s just been betrayed.

“Going for a walk without me are you? Why do you have to make choices like that? Can’t you see there’s a solution where everybody comes out ahead?”

When he becomes impatient, he lets out a little whine that’s not quite a bark. We have pretty much the same series of conversations every day, and at the same time.

Then I thought that perhaps he belongs to my wife. Because he often trots into the living room to sit down beside her. Or he recognizes she’s about to eat some snacks, so he comes close to subtly lick his lips.

“Are those cookies you’re eating? I happen to be hungry for a cookie at this very moment.”

It’s impressive how effectively he can implant an idea into her mind. I’ve taken to adopting his tactics, but it only works part of the time.

I sometimes think he belongs to her by the way, his whole body wags when she returns. Yesterday, she came home from work. Kuzo and I were on a walk, and though he was accompanying me, he couldn’t contain himself at the sight and sound and smell of her car. So I let him free, and he ran, his spine flexing like a bow, his eyes wide as he gasped for air. The red of his collar and the red of his tongue contrasting with the black of his hair.

It’s only when he faces you that you see the patches on his chest. He stands handsome and expectant as if to say, “Yeah, I know I’m the best.”

Anyway, he ran to her and got his pats, and no matter how many times I called, he wouldn’t return.

“We still have the rest of our walk to do,” I complained.

He looked torn between two obligations. It was too much for his doggie brain. “But, but, but, mommy’s home.” He looked like he wanted to come, but he was tethered to her by some mystical force of gravity, magnetism, loyalty and love.

The dog force.

So, maybe he belongs to her.

Then again maybe he belongs to my eldest daughter. Sometimes he’ll come upstairs and lay in her room, he loves the rug in her room, even though he knows he’s not supposed to be upstairs.

He knows that, so he doesn’t push it, but he doesn’t exactly obey.

Or maybe he belongs to my youngest daughter. Because on a lazy Sunday he gets lonely for her when she tries to sleep in. So, he goes upstairs to wake her up with the poke of a cold nose upon her chin.

“Hi baby!”

My girls are never disappointed to be awakened that way.

Nothing makes him happier than walking together as a family. He goes to the front and won’t be displaced. He marches proudly with a big smile on his face as if he’s sharing his pride with the world. He leads though he doesn’t know the way, in that sense, he’s just like me.

At the stop sign, I thought for a while. I realized there’s an argument to be made that he belongs to each and every one of us. But as I sat there a jolt of inspiration made the answer clear.

Finally, Kuzo did deign to look my way. Through the connection of his eyes, I imagined I could hear him say, “Is this seriously something you’re unable to see? I don’t belong to you, the simple fact is that you all belong to me.”

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