Since my Junior year of college I have wanted a bulldog, for no specific reason other then I thought they were really cool. I had a long list of possible names for my potential future canine buddy: Winston, Fat Boy, Hemingway, and Farley were my top options for a male, and if I got a female her name was going to be Gertie.
On a road trip down to DC I purchased a sign that said, "Fat Boy Parking Only" which was set to hang above my dog's bed.
As time went by and living situation changed from dorm, to apartment, to Jean's house the likelihood of me getting a dog went down. I continued to be very vocal about my want of a bulldog, and had received birthday cards, boxer shorts, and other gifts with bulldogs on them from friends and family.
I received a card from a student at the end of the school year that said that she was told my brother Tommy to get mea bulldog, but that she could only afford a gift card to White Castle instead. A very thoughtful gesture, and an even more amazing gift.
Liz had promised to buy me a bulldog if I finished The Walk, that was in 2007. She insists that she said that she would "help me buy" a bulldog, but I believe her memory is a bit clouded. She spent several months researching bulldog breeders in New England and New York while I was living in Brighton. Ultimately, I decided that a dog would not be the most prudent investment with my schedule and financial situation, so I temporarily abandoned the dream until I felt I was ready.
In September of 2009, my dad informed me that he made plans to make a trip up to Boston in October, not to see me, but to attend The Canine College in Holbrook Massachusetts. He said that there was this trainer that was giving a presentation there that he wanted to see. "He is a dog wiz", I think was the accolade my father bestowed upon him. I was more than happy to get a chance to spend some time with him, and show him my apartment so I was looking forward to his visit.
What my dad was completely unaware of, was that my mom had been calling me in the weeks leading up to his trip putting ideas in my head. In one conversation my mom actually said, "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid like bring you a dog." In another phone call she said, "Imagine your father brought you a dog?" Suddenly, I started to count down the days of my dad's arrival as if it was Christmas.
I began to think, "Holy crap, he might just be brining me a dog?"
*I apologize that I did not mention this earlier, but my dad has a long standing history of showing up at our house with pets. Through out my childhood and into my college years he has brought home: rabbits, turtles, tortoises, geckos, anoles, birds, 4 German Shepherds, and Baby our South African Mastiff, all unannounced, and all met with priceless reactions from my mother. He had also bred one of our dogs three times, each time denying to my mother that the dog was pregnant. So he has a record of showing up with pets.
With my head swimming of thoughts of having a puppy, my dad's arrival at my apartment further enhanced dream when his message as he was getting off the Mass Pike was, "Were about 10 minutes away."
Holy Crap!! Were 10 minutes away, We are! Im getting a dog!!
Yeah, so when he pulled up I ran out like a little kid only to find my dad with a recently broken right foot, alone in his car. Major let down.
That night he joined my apartment with typical Friday night ritual of drinking and listening to music, and I went to bed with no puppy.
When we got to the Canine College the next morning I really had no idea what I was getting into. People had traveled from all over to watch this trainer give lessons on Schutzhund training their dogs. (I can not describe what Schutzhund is, but there is alot of yelling in German) There were people from all over the East Coast, even a couple that flew in from Germany were there.
We parked in front of a kennel, and I swear to God, the cage right in front of our car was a bulldog puppy, looking beyond adorable. As soon as I saw that dog, my heart jumped into my throat. My dad sees me staring at the puppy and says, "Hey John I think he likes you" and then kind of chuckles.
The puppy looked very much like this one but was a few weeks older:
adorable right?
Now, my brain is racing. Oh my God, this whole Canine College thing is just to get me out here to pick up the puppy. I have an absolutely thoughtful and brilliant father. I was in love with this puppy, and after petting him through the fence for a few minutes I joined my amazing father for a full day of dog training.
Periodically when there were breaks in the demonstrations I would wander over and hang out with my new best friend. My dad came over at one point and commented on how cute the dog was. The puppy was gnawing on my finger and when we got up to leave he started to whine. My dad said, "He wants to come home with you."
Oh you sly devil dad, that he does. I began to wonder how long he was going to put on this act.
As the day was winding down, I sent a picture message of the puppy to my mom. I wanted to thank her and talk about how surprised I was by the gift. When she called me back I was really surprised by how she responded to the message. My mom asked me , "what the F**K was that!?" I explained that it was the puppy dad got me and she quickly set the record straight. When I asked her about what she had said about dad getting me a dog for the past month she said she was joking, I told her it was child abuse.
So I went from being on Cloud 9, to feeling like a complete asshole. It was a long ride back to my apartment and to add to my bad mood I wanted to get back back before Game 2 of the World Series.
Thanks to the rain delay, by the time the game started I had a little bit of a buzz going. There was a costume party in the apartment upstairs that made me feel like I was back in college. My dad rested his swollen foot on an ottoman and entertained us with stories. It was the first time that I watched a World Series game with my dad, and I was feeling really happy.
When I told him all about how I thought I was getting a puppy from his trip up here, he started laughing. As I was explaining the phone calls with my mom and what he said when we got to the Canine College, I realized just how ridiculous I was, and got a little embarrassed by the whole thing. My friends and my dad seemed to have found the whole situation very amusing.
Two weeks after he came up, my mom was saying how guilty my dad was feeling about the whole situation. By then I was pretty much over the whole thing, and had become one of my favorite stories to tell. I didn't want my dad to feel bad about my stupid misunderstanding.
When I came home for Thanksgiving, the only person who was home was my brother Tommy. He asked me to help him move some stuff downstairs, and there in my old room was a cage with a puppy in it. My dad got me really good.
By the time my dad came home I was already trying to figure out what to name him. Taking one look at him I realized that he was not a Winston, or a Hemingway, or a Fat Boy. I wanted to give him a Yankee game and thought about Mo or Munson. My dad suggested Thurman, and that became his name.
He loves the car
And after living two miles from Fenway Park for seven months he has been enjoying his new life in suburbs.
thanks Dad
of me feels bad hogging it with a Yankee game. When the Yanks are away, the game is broadcast on the home team's network. After three innings of the Orioles announcers and commercials, I became depressed and surrendered the remote. It was the Yankee game, but not the same. And yes, I am well aware that I sound like an ungrateful, spoiled little snot.
