My dog Lily

I have a dog named Lily. She is named Lily because I failed to produce a daughter, and my sons thought a dog named Lily was really the next best thing. Lily is one of those dogs that cost around $35 at the Humane Society rather than $1000 from a dog breeder. I hadn’t really been looking forward to a dog - especially considering I had already managed to kill off a few beta fish and a turtle (which are notoriously difficult to kill, by the way) - but the boys had begged so there I was. Stuck. When we got to the Humane Society there were about a dozen huge, snarling barking dogs who were making it perfectly clear they weren’t fond of this pretend doggy jail. I had a feeling one or two in particular had been in real doggy jail, by the looks of their scarred snouts and world-weary eyes. The nice thing to do would have been to adopt one of those dogs. But…there lay Lily. Silent in her little cage, staring up at us with those big sad eyes - eyes which I now know she uses to manipulate me at will. We were all goners.
Lily will be turning 4 tomorrow when Ben turns 12 (we consider her to be born on the day we found her - don’t try to wrap your heads around the mechanics of that one). Which means that she is 28. My problem is that I think she might be looking to start dating. Twenty-eight may seem a little old to just be getting started, but that’s our Lily. She’s very chaste, I must admit. A careful girl. Plus, she’s had a volatile 2 year relationship with Mattie (our cat) that can be quite violent and emotionally draining at times, so you can see why it’s taken her awhile. I don’t want to come right out and say Mattie is physically abusive, but…I don’t think he’s quite right in the head, if you know what I mean. I myself live in almost constant fear that he will suffocate me in my sleep.
I’ve started to notice that Lily gets quite a few looks from the other dogs when we’re out on our morning walks, from both the males and the females. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I can’t blame them really - Lily is quite good-looking. And I think she knows it. She’s slender with curvy legs, a fabulous black and tan coat and a great looking tail. She’s a half breed, our Lily, at the very least. I would say she’s got around six breeds going on there. I tried to explain to her that being a mixed-breed is cool and exotic, like Cher, but then people ask me what breed of dog she is (right in front of her!) - and there she goes, sleeping on my bed in the middle of the afternoon. Which can only mean depression. She seems to have gotten over it, though, and I think it’s because of all the canine attention she’s been getting on the street. She’s very unique looking - sort of like the Catherine Zeta Jones of dogs amongst a bunch of Britney Spears. A head-turner. The other dog-walkers are having difficulty getting their dogs to ‘heel’ properly - Lily is just too much of a temptation.
I’d like to see her go on a few doggy dates at the park or something. Get out there a bit and have a little fun. Maybe it would help her with her unnatural fixation on not just one, but all four of my boys. I personally think it’s the ‘forbidden fruit’ complex. She knows they’re from a different species but - well, they’re just so darn cute! I wonder if she makes up little revenge scenarios in her head like “Oh, you just wait and see! One of these days I will have grown up past your knee and then it will just be too darn late! I will have found myself a Great Dane - PURE BRED, mind you - and I won’t have any time for you anymore!”
So I think my plan of action will be to get her out for a walk early mornings, around 6:30 which seems to be the ‘happy hour’ of dogs. Certainly the quality seems to improve greatly at that hour for whatever reason. Yes, despite my earlier reservations, I think Lily dating is a fine idea, really fine. After all, one of the women of the house should be going on dates - better her than me!