Let me be candid: I’m not a fan of dogs. The smell, the mess, the slobber—none of it appeals to me. The thought of petting someone else’s dog makes me cringe, and despite the common argument that a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s, I just can’t shake the image of a dog licking its rear end right before it tries to lick my face. Honestly, I don’t find them cute when they wag their tails or make sad puppy eyes. Dogs just aren’t for me.
However, my wife has always dreamed of having a dog. For over a decade of marriage, she frequently brought it up. I presented my list of reasons against getting a dog, and eventually, she stopped asking. That is, until our children entered the picture. Two out of three of them began pleading for a dog, leading to a never-ending cycle of conversations that went something like this:
“Can we get a dog, Dad?”
“No.”
Repeat that a million times, and you get a glimpse of the past few years.
I understand that some dog enthusiasts might be puzzled or even appalled by my stance. But this isn’t for them; it’s for those who feel as I do—overwhelmed by the idea of adding a dog to the family. I wish I could say I’ve stuck to my guns, but I can’t.
The turning point came when my ten-year-old son, Max, developed a phobia of dogs. As someone who preferred a dog-free home, this situation initially seemed like a win for me. However, it quickly escalated into a significant concern. We attempted various approaches to ease his fear, including movies, books, and even visits to the animal shelter. Unfortunately, most of these efforts only heightened his anxiety.
The shelter trip was particularly traumatic. Max’s fear reached a peak when a dog unexpectedly ran onto a soccer field where he was practicing. He bolted to hide in the bushes, crying uncontrollably. The embarrassment of his teammates witnessing this moment weighed heavily on him, and I found it heartbreaking to see his tear-streaked face.
In our search for a solution, I consulted a therapist friend who bluntly advised, “Get a dog. It’ll help.” Suddenly, both Max and I were faced with a daunting prospect. He was resistant to the idea until we promised he could name the rescue dog we adopted from the Humane Society—a mix of dachshund and who knows what else.
After tossing around names from Sparky to Fart Squirrel, he ultimately settled on Pikachu. As someone who wasn’t keen on dogs or Pokémon, I found it an ironic twist of parenthood.
It took just a few days for Max to bond with Pikachu, and now he’s completely smitten. He talks about the dog endlessly and even creates artwork featuring his new furry friend. As for me? I’ll admit, Pikachu has taken a liking to me. He leaps onto my lap, whines for attention, and gives me those sad puppy eyes if I neglect to pet him. While I’m still not a fan of his tummy rub requests, I can’t deny that having Pikachu around has made our home feel cozier.
In hindsight, it appears we got this dog to help Max overcome his fear, but we ended up gaining a new family member. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad we made that leap.
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In summary, while I may not have been a dog person initially, the presence of Pikachu has undeniably enriched our home life and fostered a deeper connection within our family.