The Maserati of dogs

“How did you pick Waffle, before you got him, I mean?”
This was a friend last week, a local family man who is currently considering becoming a dog owner.

“I didn’t pick him,” I qualified. “One of the girls found him for sale online.”

“He’s not the coolest looking dog in the world, though, is he,” my so-called friend added, by way of an afterthought.

“What do you mean, not the coolest?” I asked, mildly offended.

“He kind of looks like a bit of a woman’s dog – you know, a bit of a handbag thing.”

“It would need to be a big handbag.”

“You know what I mean. He’s a bit fluffy and whingy.”

I couldn’t deny that, especially the whingy part.

“Depends what you’re looking for,” I said, eventually. “You’ll obviously want a dog that’s good with the kids but – and I’m reading between the lines here – you sound as though you want a dog that you think looks cool.”

“Exactly.”

“Why don’t you just buy a second hand sport car. It would be less hassle and come to think of it, cheaper in the long run.”

“Na, man. The weans want a dog. I was half cut wan evening and agreed to it. I have to get it now. But I don’t want something that’s gonna be… embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“You know… I’ll probably have to walk it so I don’t want anything that’s gonna….” He paused.

“Make you look as though you need a handbag?”

“Exactly.”

“OK,” I said, warming to the prospect of helping to pick a new dog. “So you want something big-ish?”

“Yeah, big and it’ll have to come in black.”

“Black? You’re not buying a sports car here.”

“I agreed with the weans that it has to be black. It’s non- negotiable.”

“Do you want a dog that doesn’t shed? Or does that matter?”

“I don’t care. I don’t do the cleaning, anyway.”

“OK, so just to re-cap. It has to be big and black and it has to be good with kids. A Labrador?”

“Na, too many of them about,” my friend wrinkled his nose. “I want something rare – cool, even. Think the Maserati of dogs.”

“The Maserati of dogs?”

“Aye, looks dangerous but it’s soft on the inside and you know by the look of it that the man that owns it is as cool as bedamned.”

“OK…” Then I had a thought. “What about a Bernese Mountain Dog?” I remembered them being big, at least partly black and very good with kids. I pulled out my phone and Googled the breed. A photo popped up straight away of a rather large but somewhat regal looking dog – the kind of thing you’d be happy to see coming if you were stuck in a snow drift.

I showed him the photo.

“Now you’re talking,” my friend smiled.

“Wanna know what it says about them?” I asked.

“Na, I don’t care. He looks the part, that’s enough for me.”

“It says here, they can weigh about 100 pounds. That’s about seven stone.”

“Big and muscly, just like me.”

“He’ll take a quare bit of feeding.”

“Again, just like me.” My friend laughed suddenly and added, “I wonder who’d win in a fight, Waffle the Handbag Dog or my new Bernese Mountain Dog.”

“Well, considering you don’t have any dog yet, I’m putting my money on Waffle to win the imaginary fight. Actually…” I continued, reading the Bernese Mountain Dog run-down on my phone, “Says here they shed a lot. In fact, the term is, ‘hair everywhere.’”

“Again, not my problem. I don’t do the cleaning.”

I then typed, ‘Bernese Mountain Dog for sale Ireland’ and up popped the website www.dogs.ie with several for sale. And then my eye caught another dog on offer.

“What about a Bernese Mountain Dog and Rottweiler cross? I see here there’s one for sale in Cork. One thousand yoyos and they’ll probably throw in the barks for free.” I showed him the picture on my phone.

“Wow! The Maserati of dogs does exist.”

THE NEXT DAY

Interested to see how the idea of buying the Maserati of dogs would go down at home, I rang my friend the following evening.

“Well? What did the missus say about the Maserati of dogs?” I asked.

“She didn’t say a big pile,” my friend hedged. “Apart from the fact that I wouldn’t be getting one.”

“Are you not getting a dog at all anymore?”

“Aye, we’re still getting one. Something called a Bichon Frise, apparently. I don’t think they’re black but they don’t shed and they’re good with kids.”

“Brilliant,” says I, trying not to laugh. “Have you seen a picture of one yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll send you a helpful website link, so.”

“What website?”

“Handbags.com”