The Four Dogs

Everyone knows we have two yappy, crazy little dogs, D.J. and Nikkei.

But only people close to Ian and Daniel understand that we actually have *four* dogs altogether, and the newer two are at least as important as the ones cited above.

The main organic difference between Set 1 and Set 2 is that the second pair happens to be stuffed, rather than physiologically-endowed. But that's where the real distinctions stop.

Almost exactly a year ago, our friend, Sarah, gave the Two Lads a Christmas present of one stuffed dog each - one black and one white. In a fit of creativity that may sound vaguely dualistic, the boys named them, respectively, "Black" and "White." (Originally they were named Nikkei and D.J., with the white one being named after our own hoary D.J., and the black one being assigned, by default, to Nikkei's identity, even though Nikkei is more yellowish-brown...)

These newer dogs are really very cute. White is a westie (D.J. is a Westie-Poodle mix, or Westie-poo), and Black is a scotty, and they both have distinct, Schnauzer-like beards., and the boys simply can't be separated from them. Home. Church. The car. Friends and relatives houses. These dogs go everywhere with us.

In fact, Ian won't go to bed without White. Often it will be the last thing he notices before he climbs into bed, but White's absence dramatically holds up the works until we locate and retrieve him. Daniel usually figures out that Ian has his dog, and then insists on finding his own dog before settling into bed. Daniel went to the emergency room a couple of weeks ago (for what turned out to be a cold, but we're neurotic parents, and we thought he might have pneumonia at the time). Black also went to the Emergency Room, and spent from 2:30 to 7:00 a.m. right beside us on the examination bed, waiting for the doctor to render the dramatic diagnosis.

Daniel will play music on some music-generating toy and sing roh-roh-roh in time to it, with his dog in hand (really, Black is the vocalist). During that middle-of-the-night trip to the bathroom that Ian and I take to accommodate his youthful bladder, White invariably accompanies us; Ian unceremoneously drops him on the floor (yes, either outside the door or in the bathroom proper), but always makes a point of picking him up as we head back, no matter how sleep-walky he is. Ian will make a point of showing things to his dog - videos and the like. And sometimes "White" knocks things off the counter; Ian duly exonerates himself, and even if Ian happens to be holding him at the time, you can always see that White is the actual object knocking things around the kitchen, as dogs are known to do.

The boys go to sleep in the car with their dogs on their lap, by their side in their car-seat, or fallen to the floor. If you carry the boys into the house, even putting them to bed, if they wake up at all, the first question will be "Where's my dog?"

Recently, Ian was making a list of the "people" that he loves. "My dog" had parental status at the top of the Affection Pyramid. (Clearly, "My Dog" was White. D.J. was also on the list, but further down. Not everyone rated as high even as D.J., not to mention White...)
Sometimes, one of the dogs will be temporarily lost, around bedtime, and another stuffed animal will have to suffice - usually a snake - but it's never the same.

A few nights ago, I though Ian had left his dog at his grandmother's house, and he had to go to bed without "him". (This is the same dog that reportedly has babies, without any mention of a mother in the process.) When I saw White over by the t.v. as I was heading out to work, seeing that White was not lost after all, I think I expressed spontaneous gratitude out loud.