[Dailydrool] Letter to Humphrey: Month 9

Tue Jul 1 18:18:21 PDT 2008

I'm unabashedly stealing an idea from one of my favorite websites,
www.dooce.com, where a mother writes monthly letters to her 4-year-old
daughter.

I'm sorry this is so long and self-indulgent. But you don't have to read it
all if you don't want to.

Dear Humphrey,

I think the last time I really wrote into the Drool about you was when we
were seeking muchas help for your severe separation anxiety. I want to thank
all those Droolers, again, for your advice and suggestions. Humphrey, we've
taken a lot of steps and made a little progress on solving your anxiety,
including a private trainer, installing a permanent gate to keep you in the
kitchen and living room when we go out, investing in a Citronella collar,
and re-crate training you. You still can't be left without the Citronella
collar on and even then, we don't feel comfortable leaving you yet for more
than an hour at a time, but progress is progress. The more we invest in our
little guy, the more we want to invest. And frankly, we just like being with
you.
You are now just about 9 months old and are really starting to develop your
own personality. You are fiercely smart and surprisingly eager to please.
Two weeks ago, we got you neutered, and I don't think your aware that
anything's changed. Because of the warm weather and our refusal to give up
our social lives completely for your separation anxiety, you've been
spending a lot of weekends bar-hopping with us. There are a surprising
number of dog-friendly bars in NYC. A week after we got you fixed, you and I
walked from our apartment to Union Square - a 5 mile walk. You helped me
pick out apples at the farmer's market there (I had to buy one apple that
you snootered and one that you actually took a bite of). For dinner that
night, you got your first 100% beef all-natural Kosher hot dog - part reward
for your long walk, part repayment for your missing "pound of flesh," part
because your papa forgot to pack your dinner when he headed down to meet us
at the bar. Kit and I expected you to snarf the whole 16" thing in about 3
bites, but you surprised us by savoring the hot dog, eating it slowly,
chewing thoroughly.

Here's a photo of you "drinking" my favorite beer, a Sixpoint Sweet Action,
at one of our favorite bars, back in April. Don't worry, Droolers; he didn't
actually drink any beer.

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=40880527&l=7b0e7&id=800320

For a puppy, let alone a basset, you are surprisingly obedient. Okay, so you
can only "heel" for about 5 seconds, and you don't understand the logic of
giving us your paw for a treat, but you're a champ at "stay" and "leave it."
You've even (with the help of the Citronella collar) stopped barking at
Kit's parents' cats, and are working hard to be their friend. We're taking
you out to your "grandpawrents'" house in the Hamptons for the 4th of July
so you can try swimming in the trout pond and take your first trip to the
beach. Your papa, a cinematographer, just got a great little HD video
camera, so we'll have lots of videos to share of Humphrey's Hamptons
exploits.

It's really hot in New York right now, but you're a champ. We walk 1.5 miles
to your daycare in the mornings and then 1.5 miles back home in the
evenings. Once the sun's set we go on a 2 mile run in the park. At the
beginning of our run, you can be too excited - you jump on me, or grab the
leash, or, if we're on the bridle path, you dart from hoof print to hoof
print, or swallow any lightning bugs that light up near your face. A quick
sit-down and you're back on focus. You are great running partner, although
your body's so long that your front legs may be running but your back legs
are walking if I'm jogging too slow. It keeps me on course, I guess.

Right before we got you neutered, your best friend died. Bruno was a
10-month old pug/shar pei mix who lived on the 2nd floor of our building. He
was the sweetest little dog and we really loved him. He got scared by
another dog in Central Park during off-leash hours (9pm - 9am) and ran out
of the park, much faster than his owner could keep up. 10 minutes later, the
owner's cell phone rang - a doorman had got it off Bruno's tags. Bruno had
been hit by a taxi on Lexington Ave. and wasn't breathing. It's been hard
for you, Humphrey; how do I explain to you, a dog, that your best friend is
dead? Every time we go by the 2nd floor, you sniff at Bruno's door and cry.
You know his best friend isn't there. But you lay down in front of the door,
waiting for Bruno to come home. One day, we ran into Bruno's owners in the
hallway. You crawled into their laps, put your nose against their door, and
cried. It was the kindest, sweetest thing I've ever seen a dog do. They
hugged you and cried with you. Life without Bruno is worse for all of us.

Here is a photo of Bruno as a baby:
http://photos-c.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v170/90/44/674105996/n674105996_476266_5963.jpg

In contrast with all of your good behavior, you have been flirting with OEBE
antics: stealing a 1/2 lb. of parmesan cheese off the counter; grabbing two
coffee-cake muffins off the table when we had company; destroying a
brand-new bra; chewing the corner of my bedside table (the only furniture in
the house you want to sink your teeth into); and digging a hole in our front
hall rug. Which perplexes your papa, but just reminds me that you are all
basset.

Here is Humphrey now, supporting our favorite brewery, Sixpoint Craft Ales
of Brooklyn, NY:
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=41019051&l=01097&id=800320

Just to put the last 7 months in perspective, here's a photo of you in your
foster home when you were 6 weeks old. You was going by the way-too-preppy
name of Preston then.
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=39494943&l=22cad&id=800320

Humphrey, your papa got you for me on my 25th birthday in January. I'm
forever glad that we didn't listen to the "voices of reason" (namely, your
paternal grandpawrents) and pass up on adopting you. I don't know if I'll
ever be ready to have kids (don't tell your papa that) but I hope you're
around to help me celebrate my 40th birthday. But however much time you
spend with us, know that we love you, have nothing but respect for your
doggy nature, and will forever enjoy making you the happiest little houndie
in New York City. You are our crazy little Hum-Bum.

(Also, if you want to get some more modeling gigs so we can keep you and
your homeless brethren in rescue stocked in treats, that would be great.)

Love,
Mama & Papa (who's busy trying out his new lenses and 35mm lens adaptors
videoing you while you snore in the corner)
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