Let’s talk about being a grilling assistant – Pinot has big shoes to fill

I sucked my thumb until I was seven years old. My parents tried everything; the icky nail polish, trying to scare me about wearing holes in my tongue, even the hand guard (it’s surprising easy to slip your thumb out of that).

This slightly embarrassing fact about my childhood is relevant to Pinot and I’s story, I promise. 

I don’t know how the idea came to me, but there was one thing I desperately wanted that my parents wouldn’t cave on. A puppy, more specially a Bernese Mountain dog puppy. 

So, seven-year-old me offered my parents a deal, I’d quit sucking my thumb if they got me a dog. They thought I was joking at first and when they realized I was serious they decided to go with it. If I didn’t suck my thumb for three months, they would get me a puppy. 

Both my parents in no uncertain terms did not think I would make it. 

I never sucked my thumb again after that day. 

And we got a puppy; we compromised on a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel since well, my parents did not want a dog to begin with, let along a big dog.

Little Prince joined our family on my eighth birthday, the smallest and softest creature I had ever held. He could fit in my palm and spent the car ride home chewing on my zipper. 

Prince did not become my best friend; in fact, I think he only tolerated me. Prince became my dad’s best friend. Yup, the member of the family who was the most resistant to getting a dog ended up wrapped around said dog’s finger. Cliché become clichés for a reason.

Their main bonding activity: grilling.

For almost fifteen years, Prince ate more like a human than a canine and never missed grill time. He sat patiently waiting for his unseasoned burger or fish fillet that Dad prepared special for him. 

18-months after he died, I moved home due to COVID and told my parents I was adopting a dog. I was met with hesitation, understandably. But my parents came around and an opportunity came up to meet a 3-month-old floof that had been abandoned and then saved from a kill shelter.

My dad had always said Prince would be their only dog, but as he watched Mom and I on the floor with Pinot he answered for us when the volunteer asked if we needed some time alone to make our decision.

Prince was my “reward,” but he was never my dog. Pinot is my dog, but I happily share her with my parents.

I gained a new best friend, and my dad has a new grilling assistant (in training).