Not So Subtle Persuasion

Unbeknownst to me, my children were staging a coup d'état with the intent to persuade me into agreeing to keep Chico. It was a lot of work, caring for five dogs at a time, and thus far I was resolute that we were not going to keep any of the foster animals. Now that my dog training business was up and running, and I was moving towards pet therapy, I was motivated to reduce the amount of dogs in my care. I wanted to earn a living, not volunteer my life away.

My kids had something different on their minds.

It all happened early one evening after everyone was finished with their responsibilities. We had just finished dinner, the dishes were done, the foster dogs were all fed and tucked safely in their crates in the garage, and homework was finished. It was family time for us. I had been puttering around the house tidying up, and when I came back into the dining room, I became interested in what my children were doing.

Dawn was laughing inwardly, and Chico was sitting quietly in our rocking chair. Nate could not be located at this point, but I remained interested in what was up. All of a sudden, Dawn asked me, yet again, if we could keep Chico. I had become accustomed to this question, and I spewed out my usual response, “When that dog can say yo quiero taco bell. We can keep him.”

I had surmised a long time ago that my statement would get across the message that I was never going to allow that dog to stay. He was a foster dog, and I wanted him to find an excellent home just like the rest of the little canine cherubs. I prepared myself for a chat with both of my children so I could explain why we couldn’t keep him, finding a seat at the dining room table. At that moment, I looked around for Nate again, but still heard, nor saw nothing.

I looked over at Chico,who was still sitting calmly in the rocking chair. “Yo quiero taco bell,” he seemed to say as his lips moved and smacked together.

He looked like the dog on the television commercial – actually talking. I laughed aloud, knowing now where my son had been hiding. I got up from my chair to see for myself. It turned out that Nate was scrunched behind the rocking chair speaking the popular and necessary words for Chico. Nate was Chico’s voice. They had fed the dog peanut butter so he would move his mouth in a way that looked like he was actually talking. I had no idea how long they had been working on this feat, but it was really entertaining and it worked.

“Okay.” I said, “You win. We can keep him.”

Cheers could likely have been heard outside our home, as the kids laughed and danced with glee. Soon after, they got Hardy and Chico howling along, and it was noisy, and boisterous, and triumphant, and gratifying.