My wife wanted a dog.

If you’re not married, what you might not understand is: that means my wife was going to get a dog. Unless you live in the South or a trailer park, and regularly white-trash it up and lord over your woman, a man within the walls of marriage best be prepared to lose either all battles, or his wife.

So, while we already had two kitties and I had no interest whatsoever in getting a dog, I prepared myself for the eventuality.

The main discussion we had was the most obvious one: what kind of dog should we get? I travel for work, so protection was at the forefront of my mind. I believed we should get a big dog, a German Shepherd or the like. My wife, however, wanted a small dog. Specifically, a mini-Schnauzer.

I had both selfish and altruistic reasons for walking the big-dog route. First, a big dog would dissuade anyone trying to break into our house from actually doing so. Even the most friendly big dog still looks threatening to a stranger, and I liked that. Second, I’m a boy, which means I wanted a manly dog; one I could walk and not be ashamed of being seen with.

My wife, on the other hand, had but one reason for wanting a mini-Schnauzer: her sister had one, and she liked it.

Naturally, I was sitting in a hotel on the road one day when the call came through; “Don’t hate me,” my wife started, “I got a dog. The mini-Schnauzer.”

I sighed, but wasn’t mad. I knew this was going to happen the instant our doggie discussions started.

The thing is, now that we have the little bugger—named “Kitty.” I figured if we were getting an inferior animal, we would at least have to name him a superior species—I’m actually happy to admit I was wrong in wanting a big dog. With any dog, you have to establish dominance; become the Alpha in the relationship. If the mutt gets it in his head he’s in charge, you’re in for one hell of a fight.

Well, Kitty absolutely believes he’s the Alpha animal in our house, but as he’s a mini, it just doesn’t matter. When he acts up, starts biting or doing anything he’s not supposed to, we simply pick him up and cradle him like a football.

“What are you going to do about it?” is our implicit message.

You can struggle with a German Shepherd, but you damn well can’t football him during a bout of bad behavior.

So though I wanted a big dog for my image, being a man is more a state of mind than a visual. I’ll walk my little dog with pride, because I don’t care how silly it looks: though I may not run much in my household, I know I’m actually in charge in that relationship.

And under my roof, I’ll take what I can get.

Comedian Nathan Timmel rules the Internet from www.nathantimmel.com

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