My Biggest Fan

There are plenty who pretend to like my cooking. Well, not plenty, maybe one. My brother. I can’t really tell if he pretends to like it, or if he has no taste buds. Either way, there is only one who really likes my cooking. LOVES my cooking. My biggest fan. No matter what I’m making he sits right by me, tail wagging, drool dripping out of his mouth, encouraging me the whole way. I ask him, “Does this look right?” He wags his tail faster and drools harder in response. These are my babies helping me cook.

My other dog likes my cooking too, but she will sniff it first, she will daintily lick it, she will chew it slowly. But my biggest fan, he’ll gobble it in one bite. I don’t even think he chews it. I don’t even think he smells it. He thinks it is THAT good. He is my biggest cheerleader, my ego booster, my garbage disposal. He is my biggest fan. But my biggest fan is gone. He died today and I think I might just have to give up cooking once and for all. No one will ever love my cooking like he did.

He was the most disobedient dog you have ever met. He would not listen to a thing you said. With a name like Boss, what did we expect? Boss, go pee! Nothing! Boss, come here! Nothing! Boss, please stay on the dog sheet and off the pillow.  I would wake up the next morning to this…

We would often tell him he’s not the boss, but he would just give us a look and say, “it’s my name”. He had no ears. They had been clipped lower than anyone had ever seen before. The joke was, he would do a little ear swipe, and say, “I have no ears. I can’t hear you,” with a little dog shrug. Some people might get frustrated with his lack of obedience and his bad listening skills, but we just accepted him for him. Boss the bad listener. That would make a great children’s book.

He had hip and joint issues from abuse when he was little, and he was such a klutzy dog. He walked with a little limp and always had trouble with stairs and things like getting in the car. One time I built a little garden in the backyard and put chicken wire around. I was sure that it would keep him out of the garden. He couldn’t step over the chicken wire. The next day, though, there he is, inside my garden sleeping on the peppers. We got a bigger, more sturdy fence and put it around. I was sure he could not get over this one. Sure enough, the next day he is in my garden, sitting on my basil.

My brother asked “is this when we get a bigger fence?” And I said, “no, this is when we give up and let Boss win. If he wants to be in the garden so badly that he will scale fences with his bad hips, we will let him. We are going to kill the plants anyway so now at least we can blame him.” I’m sure you’re not shocked, but the garden did not make it. Of course it was the dog’s fault. Wait – Is that terrible? Blaming a dog when he’ just died? I take it back. Killing gardens has always been my thing. I take full responsibility. He was probably helping by eating all the weeds. My little gardener. I can’t find a picture of him sitting in the garden but here he is helping us make it.

He was the most beautiful dog ever. Everybody loved him. The sweet little neighbor girl would drop everything when she saw him. She would hop off her bike or her scooter, leave her toys and run to Boss. She would wrap her little body around him and kiss him all over his face. I can still hear her cute little voice saying, “Oh, I love you, Boss.” He would smile wide, loving all the attention.

He loved everyone. He would walk right up to anyone and let them pet him. He would also get in any car! One time we were walking at this lake by our house and there was a car with the door open because the owner was loading kayaks. Boss jumped right into the open car before we could stop him. He sat down happily on the seat. “Well, I don’t mind if I do! I love car rides,” he said. The owner was shocked and not happy at all. We apologized profusely as we dragged him out of her car. “He is friendly,” we kept saying, like that makes a difference. This woman does not want a random pit-bull in her car even if he is friendly.

Boss seemed confused. What?!? If you see an open door, take it! When the opportunity arises, jump on it. Or in, in this case. Wise Boss words to live by. I mean unless you are a kid. Don’t get into a stranger’s car if you are a kid. Or if you are an adult even. Ok, maybe not the best Boss advice at all.

People would stop us on the street and comment on him. Much to the chagrin of our other dog, Leia, who always got ignored. She didn’t mind though. She was happy to give Boss the glory. Maybe she’ll write a book. It’ll be called Living in Boss’ shadow.

Boss was a bully. A beautiful and sweet bully. He would steal Leia’s toys, treats, food right from her and she would happily let him. She would do anything for Boss. She loved him and he loved her. Even though he pretended he didn’t. He would eye roll at her excessive barking at every person, butterfly or bird that passed our house.

When we first got Boss he would get up and run to Leia when she would bark out the front window.

“What?!? What is it?!?? Is everything ok?!? Do you need my muscles?!?!” Boss would ask all worried but ready to save the day.

“I saw a leaf!” Leia would respond, all proud of herself. Boss would sigh and go back to his spot on the couch. He learned quickly and when Leia would bark, he would lift his head, give me a look, roll his eyes, and go back to sleep. We left Leia to protect the house herself from squirrels, lizards and neighborhood children.

Leia is not great with other dogs and we always tell her we never thought she’d have a friend. But she had a friend. A best friend. She had a Boss. I’m not sure how she’ll live without him. I’m not sure how any of us will.

Car rides were his favorite things. He’s an old frail dog but if you said the words car ride he would run into things and knock them over like a bull in a China shop. Or a kid in a mosh pit. He was so excited. We all learned to brace ourselves. Leia especially ducked and moved out of his way. I learned this lesson the hard way when Boss accidentally headbutted me in his excitement and gave me a fat lip.

He loved to stick his head out the window, his little lip flap flapping in the wind. A look of pure happiness on his face. Dog drool smudging up the car window. I will never wash the drool off my car window. We always said we wished the whole world could be as happy as Boss with his head out the car window. The world would be a much better place if people found joy in small things like sticking their heads out the window. Oh, and pup cups. That guy loved a pup cup.

He helped me with dishes every night by licking each one clean. He was meticulous about doing the dishes. He takes his job very seriously. Such a big helper. If you like a clean dog slobbery plate. I secretly cleaned them after him when he wasn’t looking but please don’t tell him that. He loves being a helper.

He would definitely let you know what he wanted. If there was pizza on top of the oven, he would sit right next to the oven, all tall and proud, looking up at the pizza and then back at me, and repeatedly humph until you noticed him. He’d make a little “humph” sound when he wanted your attention. He would do that with treats too. Sit right by the counter where the treats are and humph until you gave him one.

He would communicate in an almost human-like way. While we sat and ate our dinner, he would lay on the floor and howl and whine and ask for food. It was a back-and-forth conversation. We would tell him that he must wait patiently, and then he would howl at us. We would tell him that we know he wants tacos, but he must wait until we finish ours, and then he would howl back at us. It was a little annoying but also hilarious and now we miss it. Dinners are too quiet. “Don’t eat it all,” he would say. “I just HAVE to have some.”

At the end of the meals, we make a little plate for him and Leia. He would devour it in two minutes, give me a wink over his shoulder and say, “Delicious! You did it again, mom. You are the BEST cook ever.” And then he would go and eat Leia’s plate. And she would step aside and let him.

I’ve never loved a dog like I loved Boss. They say there is no love greater than a child and their dog/pet. I disagree and think adult dog love is much stronger. Maybe because as adults we know how hard it is to find true unconditional love.

Live your life like Boss. Forget the rules. Forget listening to others. Just do what makes you happy. Overcome obstacles to lay on peppers. Find the sunshine. Stick your head out the window every now and then. Humph until you get noticed. And get in a stranger’s car when the opportunity arises. Well, maybe not that one.