A Boy and His Dog


When it comes to my son, all dogs are called ‘Hatch’. That’s short for our dog, Hatcher, an Olde English Bulldogge, who is now three and a half years old. ‘Hatch’ is probably the only word our son says on our request, other than ‘mom’ (I wish it were ‘mommy’ instead) or ‘daddy’.

Lately, my son has taken an interest in ‘his’ dog. This is him, 26 pound boy, petting 90 pound dog, and loving it.

Since P has begun to develop some good body control (he’s 14 months tomorrow) and since the heat has gotten so high we bring the dog in, he has gotten to be comfortable with him around. If the dog suddenly feels like moving a different way, P can really move, and he likes that. Every now and then, he’s still a little unsure of his doggy.

It wasn’t too long ago that P went up to him and pet him from his own will; and he even dared pet his mouth! This afternoon, he was all about getting friendly with his new buddy. He sat right down with him and pet him for as long as the dog would sit still.

Unfortunately, Hatch-Dog gets excited with long-term attention, so by fifteen minutes, I kept having to tell him to lay down.

Today, P has mastered knowing what ears are… Poor Hatch is in for it; P was just gently tugging and talking about those floppy ears of his…

At least we don’t have to worry about our son being afraid of dogs.

P & Hatch-Dog


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