In a pickle

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Our Loie is in a pickle. One minute she wants to give Louie away, and the next minute she's cooking special food for him.

When she reaches the end of her rope, he acts all submissive and contrite, appealing for another chance to prove he's a fine companion.

Which he is. When he wants to be. Problem is, he's a d-o-g, and he has these canine instincts, especially when it comes to food and guarding his precious bones. He doesn't understand the basic rule: Never bite the hand that feeds you.

But, see, we were taught to be responsible, and that includes being responsible for our bad and iffy decisions and making our own bed and lying down in it. How is it that some people seem to just cut their losses and walk away so easily? That just isn't the way we were taught to do things. We hang in there. Take care of things. Solve our problems or learn to live with them.

But one time when Lois and I were little, we were allowed to have a dog -- a beagle mix named Mr. Chips that we called Chipper. He wasn't allowed inside, so he was always barking and muddy and unruly. And it became clear that he needed a happier home. Our dad told us that he found him a nice farm in the country where he could run free. It was nearly 50 years later that I learned that Dad had just driven him out in the countryside and turned him loose, figuring he could hunt and fend for himself. Lois and I felt betrayed.

Maybe that's why she can't let Mr. Loo-Boo go. We still feel guilty that we didn't take better care of Chipper, that our first dog was thrown out on the side of the road like a beer can. Being responsible means paying a very steep price, doesn't it?