Everyone’s got a reason why they chose their dog:

“It was love at first sight.”

“We did it for the kids.”

But really? “He was cheap.”

Yes, you heard me—he was cheap.

“No, you’re the one who’s super cheap,” I was dying to tell the guy, but I was afraid of getting beaten up. This walking, hulking block of granite looked immune to the forces of nature. If anyone was going to rehabilitate that bucking-bronco of a husky-wolf hybrid he was walking, it was GraniteMan.

As we passed the ferocious duo, the beast lunged at us with such force it nearly ripped GraniteMan’s arm clean out of its socket. Well, not really, but almost. Suffice it to say, it had the strength of a team of oxen plowing a field. You know what I mean, bro.

Then GraniteMan stamped his black steel-toed construction boot and barked, “Sit!”—which the lupine creature obeyed instantly. He stared the beast down, and all I could think was, This guy knows how to handle a dog. Maybe he worked in a K9 unit for the army or police force, but there was no mistaking who was in command.

I was impressed. I could never scare anything—not a dog, not a frog, not even a frog on a log in the fog.

"Are you a dog trainer...sir?" I meekly mumbled, gulping like an Oliver Twist street urchin begging for a bowl of porridge.

“Haha! That’s a good one,” he cackled, not taking his eyes off the beast, still sitting like a stone statue.

What’d I say wrong? My life flashed before my eyes—had I ever picked up my black velvet Kenzo smoking jacket from the dry cleaners? No. And I shouldn’t have blamed it on my son. You live, you learn—particularly when your life flashes before your eyes.

“No, no,” Macho Man explained. “This is actually my first. I bred guppies for ages.”

Guppies? I thought. It was hard to talk with my teeth chattering.

“Lotta work,” he confessed.

“Well, at least he listens to you,” I uttered before considering to call my mother to tell her I had officially lost my ability to speak.

“He!” he cried. “It’s They! What makes you assume this they is a he? Because they’re strong and unruly? Not all men are like that. Some like me, are very sensitive. But hear what I say, my dog Pat goes by they.”

“Okay,” I blubbered in rhyme and added,”your honour.” I tend to go overboard on respect when face-to-face with someone who could squash me like a fly if he got the urge. “Well, it’s great to save and rehabilitate a shelter dog.”

“Shelter dog? Excuuuuse me. Do I look like the type—”

I cut him off, completely shocked by my own boldness. It reminded me of that time at summer camp when I asked for another bowl of porridge: Please, sir, can I have some more?

“Oh no, my friend.”

He’s calling me ‘my friend’ now? I thought. Yeah...of course. I’m so likable. Especially when I smile. Got that mischievous glint in my eyes, I do.

“Sir?”

“Haha, no siree. Call me Duke. I really am a Duke—well, a deposed one, from Moldova, so I’m told. But just call me Duke for short. Or Lord.”

Then, to my horror, he pulled out a dog treat, scrunched up his face, placed it between his teeth, and fed it to the ravenous canine, who snatched it from his mouth and gobbled it down like a Thanksgiving turkey.

“That’s a good they,” Duke praised while patting Pat’s head. “Pat’s a COVID baby. The kids and the wife wanted a dog, which essentially meant good ol’ Dad would be the one walking the dog day in, day out—rain or shine, sleet or snow, to and fro. So here I am.”

“Carpe diem!” I cried, praying that Duke was a well-read student of modern existentialism, from Sartre to Ginsberg.

“What a coincidence,” he chuckled. “I also once had a pet carp named Diane. Flushed her down the toilet on her birthday.”

Moron-odometer flashing red. ABORT!

I do this a lot—give fools the benefit of the doubt until it’s too late. Avoid external conflict. Internal shrieking is better.

“So, how did you choose your dog?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Instant regret.

You just love to get entangled in these weird speed-friendship things, I chided myself. I know, I know—it’s because it’s funny. My brother used to say that, and it was probably the only thing we ever agreed on.

“Cheapest dog I could find,” Duke said. “Remember when dog prices skyrocketed to thousands during COVID? I was lucky to get this baby for $999 and my mint Wayne Gretzky rookie card.”

And at that moment, I realized—I’d been wrong all along.

He was the bigger moron.

Nice guy, though. Made me laugh. Still does.

Which brings me back to the original question:

"Why did you get a dog?"

For the laughs, my friend. It’s all about the laughs.