I have the immense pleasure of heading home this upcoming weekend, and there are a number of things I am looking forward to. Of course, it is always great to see friends and family. My favorite home-cooked meal of chicken with pasta, broccoli and butternut squash is sure to be on the table, and I have scheduled a haircut with someone who actually knows what do with the quaff atop my head. But more than anything, I absolutely cannot wait to see my dog.
Anyone who knows me well knows my Portuguese Water Dog, Rory (you bet your bottom dollar she is named in honor of “Gilmore Girls”), is basically my life. Besides being the lock screen on my iPhone and the wallpaper on my Facebook page, she is also, for all intents and purposes, my child. My parents got her my senior year of high school to, well, essentially replace me. After my 18 years of begging and pleading for a canine friend, they finally adopted one as I was about to walk out the door. Yeah, I thought it was bologna, too. Still, before heading off to Madison, I had eight months of intense bonding time with the little nugget, enough to solidify that she is, in fact, my pet.
The first night she stayed in the O’Reilly household speaks volumes about how I love and protect this dog. I invited my group of friends over to get acquainted with and/or be jealous of Rory. At the time, my friend Kelsey was involved with a fellow who, how can I put this without being overdramatic, WAS TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY DISGUSTING (sorry, Kels). I felt so strongly about this point that I refused to let said dude touch the new puppy for fear he would contaminate her. Now I recognize this was not my most benevolent of moments, but you see that picture in the left-hand corner? Would you let your eight-pound ball of smiles and bliss be caressed by a guy who proudly announced that if his semen could be any liquid it would lava? Of course not, so let us proceed.
Since then, my affection for that mangy mutt has only grown more intense. Having spent the past four years a full two hours away from her, I have learned that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder. Every time I return home for a weekend, she is the first member of the family I greet, and usually our reunion involves 10 immediate minutes of face licking and belly rubs. Oftentimes my parents have to remind me to say hello to them. Perhaps if they were covered in fur and ate the vegetables I do not care for off of my plate they would be the benefactors of such loving salutations. Alas, they are the ones who put the mushrooms in front of me in the first place. You get what you give.
But it is not just my parents who get placed below Rory on my list of priorities. Several times a year, a friend or two will accompany me home for a weekend of hot dogs and other Chicago shenanigans. Naturally, seeing as there does not exist a free bed in my house, they usually bunker down with me. My bed is a double and thus easily fits two people, but there is one stipulation that comes with the weekend of free lodging: You must be willing to share the bed with a certain pooch, as well.
Rory is my spooning partner supreme, and you best believe she sleeps in my bed with me every chance I get. For guests who protest these accommodations: I am sure they—friend, fellow or otherwise—find the floor quite to their liking. Luckily, most people find Rory as irresistible as I do, so this has yet to be a problem.
Perhaps one day you will have the opportunity to meet this fabulous four-legged creature. When and if that happens, feel free to call her by any of her nicknames, which include but are not limited to: RoRo, Rowboat, Rory Pory, Boobs, Dog Face (that one is a little on the nose), BooBoo, Baby Girl, Little Girl—anything with “girl,” really—and Whack Job. What can I say? She can be a bit of a nut at times, but she will leave a paw print on your heart. Until this fateful meeting day arrives, do as I do: Ask my sister to Skype but when she comes on casually drop in that you have no desire to speak with her, but if she could put the dog on, that would be delightful.
Do have a canine friend you are missing these days? Jacqueline understands. E-mail her at jgoreilly@dailycardinal.com and she will invite you over for some dog gabbing and a screening of “Lassie.”
