by Rodney Crutchfield

Created on: March 17, 2009

In order to tell the entire ugly story, I have to give you a little background information. My wife and I have several pets, all named after something to do with music. The oldest is a tomcat named Jimi Thing, after a Dave Matthews song. He was adopted by my son at Pet Smart through the Humane Society. He is one of the ugliest cats known to man. The day he was brought home, he had some sort of skin disorder, a half mustache that reminded me of Hitler, and a tail two times normal length. He also ran around the house like he was crazy, jumping on furniture and people but barely touching the ground. Thank goodness, over the years he has grown out of that habit and grown into his tail, and is now, if not handsome, he is somewhat distinguished.

Next, we have a six year old Cocker Spaniel. She is the love of my wife's life, and if it came down to her or me, I don't want to think about the outcome. She is Abbey Road, named after the Beatles' album. She is sweet, overweight, and blonde.

We did have a female cat named Maggie, after Rod Stewart's song. She, just like her namesake, proved to be fickle and ran away. That is really where the trouble began.

Maggie was my cat, and was given to me by my wife. When she ran away, I suppose my wife felt like I had a void that needed filling. One day we went to Pet Smart to get Abbey weighed since we had had her on a diet. This was on a Saturday, the day the Humane Society people were there with all of the animals up for adoption. Right in front, in a crate by himself, was this little black and white puppy. My wife immediately fell for him, and asked if it would be alright to get him. I pointed out to her how big his feet were, and that he was going to be a big dog, but she said she wanted him anyway. We talked to the Humane Society people and they said he was part Springer Spaniel, other part unknown. We took him home and named him Bobby McGee, after the Janis Joplin song.

Life was good. Bobby was still small, and we would take him to the Little League baseball field and all the children loved him and wanted to play with him. My wife adored him- and then it happened! Bobby grew into his feet, began picking on the Cocker Spaniel (remember the love of my wife's life), and began generally acting out. About this time, my wife started referring to him as my dog, no matter how much I reminded her that she was the one who wanted him. In fact, he did become my dog, since she wouldn't look after him, and I felt someone had to!

Bobby soon got so big that my wife started putting him in our fenced in back yard. It was at this time that I discovered that the rest of the mixture in Bobby was human and he could communicate with me. After many days of being stuck in the backyard, he asked me, "Daddy, why am I always put out here in the back and Abbey gets to stay inside? Is this a racial issue? ". I told him that color had nothing to do with it, that my wife was a liberal, and it only was because of the way he bullied Abbey. And with that he seemed to be satisfied.

Although Bobby and I talked from time to time, he only talked a lot one night recently. Things between my wife and he had gone from bad to worse- at times he would gnaw on her favorite bra just to make her mad. Bobby overheard her tell me that either he went, or I went. He came to me with a picture for me to put on my bulletin board at school. Since he couldn't type ( I can't fool you there, he doesn't have opposable thumbs) , he told me to put the picture up with this message: " Lovable Springer Spaniel mix- in need of a good home. Wicked stepmother says either I go or Daddy goes- Can you adopt me? If not, can you adopt Daddy? He's old, fat and bald, but he doesn't eat much anymore".

Both our bags are packed!

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