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By Sumiko Tan
The two favourite males in my life get along really well.
In fact, H sleeps with him more often than he sleeps with me (we have not resolved our air-conditioner issue).
They share food, fool around with a tennis ball, sit side by side to watch TV when I'm not home, and I've even caught H calling him 'Honey'.
Now, 'Honey' is perhaps not the most appropriate term of endearment for a male dog.
But it suits my bichon frise fine because Dee does look feminine with his curly white hair and dainty frame.
I'm glad to report that H and Dee are best friends.
Before I got married, I was a little worried that they won't like each other.
H had declared to me that he loves dogs, but he has had only one so far - a mongrel - and that was when he was a boy.
I, on the other hand, have had at least a dozen. There's not been a period I wasn't surrounded by dogs.
When I visited him in Wales last year, a shiny black cat was slinking about in the house.
He had rescued her from the streets, named her Ruby and had even built a complicated cat scratcher contraption for her that took pride of place in the living room.
You're not secretly a cat lover are you, I asked, accusatorily.
No, no, he assured me, I like dogs more.
I'm not a cat person - they scare the living daylights out of me with their glassy eyes and perilous claws - and so I viewed Ruby with trepidation.
I did try to play with her by tentatively stroking (more like poking) her tummy, but cats are so snobbish. She stared through me with her cold Cleopatra eyes and turned her head. Your loss, I thought, rebuffed, and walked away.
I knew H was sad to leave the cat behind and I felt sad for him too, but I told him to look on the bright side - you're coming to a household of friendly, bouncy dogs.
Tragically, our beautiful and much- loved pomeranian died a few weeks before he came, and so there was just Dee.
As all dog-lovers know, different breeds have different temperaments and every dog has its own personality.
Dee is smart, understands quite a few words and has an obsession with tennis balls. He shakes with excitement whenever he sees a ball, sleeps with one and is forever dropping a ball at our feet so we'll play fetch with him.
He's friendly to people whom he knows - namely, my mother, maid and me. When we come home, he'll show his delight by acting crazy-happy.
But he's not been socialised and so is wary of strangers and barks hysterically at them. He also doesn't like being cuddled and carried, and ever since he got neutered, has developed a nasty habit of growling when his sleep is disturbed.
I was expecting him to bark at H when he arrived from the airport, but strangely, Dee took H's presence in his stride. He acted as if it was the most natural thing for H to be there.
They got to know each other quickly.
It helps that H thinks he's a 'beautiful dog', has the patience to play ball with him and doesn't even mind sharing his bed with him.
The latter took some getting used to, though.
I had warned him that I sleep with my dogs, but the first time Dee jumped into our bed, I could see he was alarmed.
It's okay, I told him, Dee won't bother you. He's probably wondering why you're in his bed and why he has to share his space with you.
But, we've since discovered, a queen- sized bed is way too small for a party of three. It's such a tight squeeze when all of us sleep together, especially as we both want to be considerate to the dog and not disturb him too much. (The fact that he growls figures too.)
Once, H found himself stuck with his legs splayed for several hours because Dee had decided to plonk himself in the space between his thighs and there wasn't much room left for H to turn as I was there too.
The problem sorted itself out when we decided that we should sleep in separate bedrooms because I abhor the air-con and he must sleep in a room with one.
He decamps to another room on most nights, and both our beds are just right for two - H and Dee, or me and Dee.
The only one who lost out was the dog, who became quite confused. He has to decide whose bed he wants to share.
Some nights, he'll sleep with H, other nights with me. Or he'll start the night with H, get up early, get H to wake up and open the door so he (the dog, not husband) can hop over to my room and bed.
Marriage experts will tell you that pets can play an important role in a marriage - provided both of you like animals, of course.
An American study found that couples who own a cat or dog are more satisfied in their marriage and respond better to stress than couples who don't.
In fact, in an article I read on the Internet, American clinical psychologist Suzanne B. Phillips says one way to improve your marriage is to treat your spouse as your dog.
Crazy? Not really.
Take greetings. No matter how awful my day was at work, I always greet Dee with a big hello and will spend a few minutes talking, cuddling and playing with him. I can't say I do the same to H, not really, at least not every day.
Or the matter of forgiveness. If I find that Dee has mucked up a nicely mopped floor, I'll sigh, scold him, clean up after him and that's that. His transgression is readily forgiven and forgotten. I don't revisit it or hold it against him.
But when H makes a mess of the bathroom or forgets to take out his sweaty tennis gear from the car, he'll hear no end of my nagging.
Also, when it comes to pets, at least among genuine animal-lovers - it's for better or for worse. I love my dogs no matter how old and sick they are. It's non-conditional. Will I feel the same for H 20 years down the road?
Still, there are limits.
His dream dog is a bouncy, giant golden retriever. I don't know about him, but much as I love dogs, I don't fancy that for a bed partner.
[email protected]
Copyright © 2010 Singapore Press Holdings. All rights reserved.
The two favourite males in my life get along really well.
In fact, H sleeps with him more often than he sleeps with me (we have not resolved our air-conditioner issue).
They share food, fool around with a tennis ball, sit side by side to watch TV when I'm not home, and I've even caught H calling him 'Honey'.
Now, 'Honey' is perhaps not the most appropriate term of endearment for a male dog.
But it suits my bichon frise fine because Dee does look feminine with his curly white hair and dainty frame.
I'm glad to report that H and Dee are best friends.
Before I got married, I was a little worried that they won't like each other.
H had declared to me that he loves dogs, but he has had only one so far - a mongrel - and that was when he was a boy.
I, on the other hand, have had at least a dozen. There's not been a period I wasn't surrounded by dogs.
When I visited him in Wales last year, a shiny black cat was slinking about in the house.
He had rescued her from the streets, named her Ruby and had even built a complicated cat scratcher contraption for her that took pride of place in the living room.
You're not secretly a cat lover are you, I asked, accusatorily.
No, no, he assured me, I like dogs more.
I'm not a cat person - they scare the living daylights out of me with their glassy eyes and perilous claws - and so I viewed Ruby with trepidation.
I did try to play with her by tentatively stroking (more like poking) her tummy, but cats are so snobbish. She stared through me with her cold Cleopatra eyes and turned her head. Your loss, I thought, rebuffed, and walked away.
I knew H was sad to leave the cat behind and I felt sad for him too, but I told him to look on the bright side - you're coming to a household of friendly, bouncy dogs.
Tragically, our beautiful and much- loved pomeranian died a few weeks before he came, and so there was just Dee.
As all dog-lovers know, different breeds have different temperaments and every dog has its own personality.
Dee is smart, understands quite a few words and has an obsession with tennis balls. He shakes with excitement whenever he sees a ball, sleeps with one and is forever dropping a ball at our feet so we'll play fetch with him.
He's friendly to people whom he knows - namely, my mother, maid and me. When we come home, he'll show his delight by acting crazy-happy.
But he's not been socialised and so is wary of strangers and barks hysterically at them. He also doesn't like being cuddled and carried, and ever since he got neutered, has developed a nasty habit of growling when his sleep is disturbed.
I was expecting him to bark at H when he arrived from the airport, but strangely, Dee took H's presence in his stride. He acted as if it was the most natural thing for H to be there.
They got to know each other quickly.
It helps that H thinks he's a 'beautiful dog', has the patience to play ball with him and doesn't even mind sharing his bed with him.
The latter took some getting used to, though.
I had warned him that I sleep with my dogs, but the first time Dee jumped into our bed, I could see he was alarmed.
It's okay, I told him, Dee won't bother you. He's probably wondering why you're in his bed and why he has to share his space with you.
But, we've since discovered, a queen- sized bed is way too small for a party of three. It's such a tight squeeze when all of us sleep together, especially as we both want to be considerate to the dog and not disturb him too much. (The fact that he growls figures too.)
Once, H found himself stuck with his legs splayed for several hours because Dee had decided to plonk himself in the space between his thighs and there wasn't much room left for H to turn as I was there too.
The problem sorted itself out when we decided that we should sleep in separate bedrooms because I abhor the air-con and he must sleep in a room with one.
He decamps to another room on most nights, and both our beds are just right for two - H and Dee, or me and Dee.
The only one who lost out was the dog, who became quite confused. He has to decide whose bed he wants to share.
Some nights, he'll sleep with H, other nights with me. Or he'll start the night with H, get up early, get H to wake up and open the door so he (the dog, not husband) can hop over to my room and bed.
Marriage experts will tell you that pets can play an important role in a marriage - provided both of you like animals, of course.
An American study found that couples who own a cat or dog are more satisfied in their marriage and respond better to stress than couples who don't.
In fact, in an article I read on the Internet, American clinical psychologist Suzanne B. Phillips says one way to improve your marriage is to treat your spouse as your dog.
Crazy? Not really.
Take greetings. No matter how awful my day was at work, I always greet Dee with a big hello and will spend a few minutes talking, cuddling and playing with him. I can't say I do the same to H, not really, at least not every day.
Or the matter of forgiveness. If I find that Dee has mucked up a nicely mopped floor, I'll sigh, scold him, clean up after him and that's that. His transgression is readily forgiven and forgotten. I don't revisit it or hold it against him.
But when H makes a mess of the bathroom or forgets to take out his sweaty tennis gear from the car, he'll hear no end of my nagging.
Also, when it comes to pets, at least among genuine animal-lovers - it's for better or for worse. I love my dogs no matter how old and sick they are. It's non-conditional. Will I feel the same for H 20 years down the road?
Still, there are limits.
His dream dog is a bouncy, giant golden retriever. I don't know about him, but much as I love dogs, I don't fancy that for a bed partner.
[email protected]
Copyright © 2010 Singapore Press Holdings. All rights reserved.
