We've bought a dog

We’ve bought a dog.

“What make is it?” I asked.

“It looks like a Shih Tzu” said Lolly

“What’s a Shih Tzu?” asked Thomas

“One with no animals” said Tilda, her eyes on the television.

“She’s a Miniature Schnauzer” said Mrs LG. “And she’s called Lola”

I didn’t want a pet – I wanted more children

Don’t get me wrong, the first time I found out my wife was pregnant I wasn't exactly thrilled, but they grow on you, these children. And over the last few years Mrs LG and I have been out to a few dinner parties where the subject of children has come up and we have 3 children now, and when the women at the dinner parties ask me if I want any more children (and it’s always the women who ask) I answer ‘yes’ and Mrs LG, never far away from me in social circles with predatory females, answers ‘no’ and ushers me quickly away. Nothing to see here.

Because if Mrs LG doesn’t want to have any more kids, then we won’t be having any more kids. Having more kids joins the long list of things that I want to do that Mrs LG is not going to do, and the first thing on the list is to talk about the list.

But I know she thinks about it, because when I walk aimlessly down an aisle in Sainsbury, wondering how I’m going to acquire Rooney in my fantasy football team without losing Van Persie, she pulls me back by the small of the neck quickly rendering me as incapacitated as a suspended kitten, and she looks at me with smiling eyes and says “don’t think I don’t know why you are walking down the baby aisle.”  

And of course I smile back. With no mention of footie. I want her to think I'm cleverer than I am, and in my expereince the best way to do that is by keeping my mouth firmly shut.

And while the kids issue seemed to be getting to her, there was always hope.

But that has all backfired spectacularly as now Mrs LG, in her concern for the fact that I’m getting broody, has bought a dog. A Miniature Schnauzer, called Lola.

Lola and I don't get on particularly well. She knows her place in the family pecking order. And it's way above me. She tends to show me her tail a lot when I try and call her. Or at least I think it's her tail she's showing me.

And for the last two weeks while I have been away, noone in my family has called me. They’re all going gooey over the dog. Time is flying by.

And I can see that Mrs LG, Tom, Olivia, and Tilda have been posting photos on Facebook, of the upgraded family, minus Dad but more than complete with Miniature Schnauzer frolicking in the autumn leaves, perched across Tila’s shoulders outside school, shitting on the spare (my) bedroom floor, that sort of thing.

 And when I call, they only want to talk about the dog.

So now I have slid ever further down the slippery slope known to a man as the family pecking order; which now stands at: Mrs LG, Olivia, Tilda, Tom, Lola the Miniature Schnauzer, the one-eyed goldfish and then a long, long gap, that stretches out to the horizon.

 And then, if you squint really hard, you can see me.

But despite all this, Lola is growing on me. And I missed her, just a little bit, when I was away. And I’m happy being way down at the bottom of the pile, just as long as we can throw some more bodies in-between.

And if they all have to be Miniature Schnauzers, then so be it.