Here is how things were in the beginning:
He was our first baby, a dress rehearsal for the real thing. This was back in the days of actual film, and we had no qualms about taking whole rolls of film of this frisky, naughty beast.
There was much anxiety over what would happen when we brought Jack home from the hospital. My gramzie was sure that the dog would eat the baby. We even did that whole thing where you bring the new baby's smell home on a blanket and let the dog get used to it. Oscar was like, "Bitch, please, get that rag off my couch."
But here is how it actually went down:
The most interesting thing about the baby for Oscar was that he was a whole new magical world of delicious, awful smells, like microwave popcorn/diarrhea/semi-digested sour breast milk/etc. So, yeah, it is safe to say they were fast friends.
The second time around, we didn't do that whole "smell the baby" gig, because trusty old Oscar KNEW what was coming. We brought the baby carrier in and ever-optimistic Oscar was like, "Hey, maybe now you'll stop being a crazy bitch and we can get back to those epic long walks!" I had become the mother of two kind of shipwreck, not the kind that takes her poor dog on long walks, unless it was to sneak cigs, which of course I would know nothing about because what kind of shabby mother smokes?
Cool-as-a-cucumber Oscar, though, took it in stride. Here is how things looked:
Around this time, Oscar became all honey badger about the kids. When other people or dogs came near, Oscar would snarl like he meant it. He did a routine nightly check on the kids before coming into our room. Sniff, sniff, ketchup and nugget boy safe in the toddler bed, check. Sniff, sniff, tiny one in the bassinet, check. Sniff, sniff, baby girl breathing softly in the crib, check.
Brace yourselves, friends; this ACTUALLY happened: On a particularly broken motherly moment, unamusedly musing, "So this is how the fuck it feels to not have not slept in 3 days," I was sobbing on the floor when Oscar came up and licked my tears. LICKED MY TEARS. Think of the symbolism and metaphor in this image rather than where that nasty canine mouth had been. He was thinking, "Pull yourself together, boo. We got this."
And we did. Even when Chad worked long hours, even during the extended barf-a-thons - Oscar particularly liked those - even when there was money trouble, work trouble, and broken appliances, I had my dog and my dog had me.
Fast-forward one more baby, two more moves, good old Oscar always in the mix, even as the rest of the world laughed (and indeed, they did):
I have been known to "get the mail" more than once per day, because even if I have only left for one minute, Oscar is pee-on-the-floor excited upon my return. He is thrilled to run with me even when you know his old bones hurt. He doesn't back-talk. He warms my feet. And heart.
This guy is cool, even if he does eat his poop.
Here we are now. I want this guy along for the ride, even if we need to take breaks.
