Fatty

Brenda and Thihan have a dog named Fatty. When Jacob was a baby, and when we still thought Fatty was part Pitbull (instead of purebred Sharpe, which she is), and when Fatty was regularly running around Brenda and Thihan's property in Cleveland and leaving presents of dead small game in their back yard, I used to feel afraid of Fatty---afraid that one day Jacob would pull her tail and that Fatty would get mad, and, well, anyway. I was afraid.

It turns out Fatty is awfully good with the children in her life. When Zarni was a baby he used to pull her tail and do all sorts of mean things to her and Fatty never snapped. She's more patient than I am most of the time.

And besides, these days Fatty mostly just seems old. And so I'm not really afraid of her anymore. But today I came into the kitchen and Fatty was growling a very low, almost imperceptible growl at Casey, and Casey was afraid. I said "Fatty, Casey's OK. She won't hurt you." And I picked up Casey and we walked to the bathroom. Here's how the conversation went down while Casey was going potty:

Casey: Why did Fatty growl at me?

Me: Well, you might have scared her. Also, she's old and she can't hear very well.

Casey: Why?

Me: Well, when dogs get old they can't hear very well and they can't see very well and they can't walk very well. Kind of like people when they get old.

Casey: I don't want to be an old dog. [Long pause]. But that's OK, because I don't eat dog food.