The Great Dane Escape – "What He Said"
Part II
First of all, I'd like everyone to stop referring to me as the "little brother." I'm 175 pounds of paws, jowls, cuddles and questionable coordination. Usually, I'm carrying a toy and ready to sit on your lap. Then you'll quickly notice I'm a lot of things, but "little" isn't one of them. OK, let's begin.
I'm Doc. Mr. Sir if you're feeling fancy. Chonky Donkey if you're family, although that one confuses me. Personally, I think I move like a professional athlete, but sometimes everything doesn't arrive at the same time. My paws announce my entrance as the rest of me catches up, all smiles and ready for whatever.
I'm lucky because around here, being me is more than enough.
Often described as goofy, dopey or clumsy — all true — I also have the biggest heart. So big that it spills out through the crown of my head. All love with zero attention span. Sissy is the brains. I don't need to think. It's all about this moment right here, the ultimate boy in my pack of ladies.
I didn't know I was looking for where I belonged, but I sure am glad my Moms ordered the biggest boy the shelter had!
The first day I arrived from the shelter, limbs tumbling out of the car, life officially began! My new sister quickly claimed me, sensing I'd be easy to boss around and silly enough to entertain her. The sillier I get, the more she rolls her eyes, and I stay on her heels, following her every move.
She knows how to climb trees for squirrels. I watch. She knows which chair has the best view. I steal it. She even knows a secret door where St. Austin passes out bacon! OK! I think she's magic.
But, oh, what she said about the incident? Yes! I didn't mean to open the door with a heavy lean while nudging it with my nose. I swear she made me do it! I surprised myself. When the "click" happened and she gave me that look, we were off for a good time. Call it peer pressure, but it was a bonding moment. When your big sister wants to go on an adventure, you go on an adventure!
I didn't understand the confusion with the police. Nobody broke in. We just forgot to come right back and left the door open. Nothing to see here — just two lucky dogs out on the town, playing in traffic.
Sometimes people ask what makes me lucky. I used to think it was the homemade dinners, sleeping inside, the bacon or the cuddles. Then I realized those things are wonderful, but they're not what wags my tail. My tail wags because every morning I wake up, grab my hedgehog, look for my Moms — check. Look for my sister — check, check. When everyone is home, so am I.
I'm bigger now, regardless of what my sister thinks. She still sighs when I nibble her ears. She rolls her eyes when I steal her chair. She acts like I'm the most annoying thing that's ever happened to her. But every time we go somewhere, she still looks to see if I'm coming.
Yup, I'm right here, because that's what little brothers do, even the really big ones.
Thank you, Moms, for bringing me home. And thank you, Sissy, for deciding I belonged here.