In the doghouse

Continuing on the theme of dogs, let me introduce you to Joe. Joe is a beige stuffed dog that arrived at our household a week before Calvin was born along with many other baby gifts. The girls named him. They were very interested in naming the new baby, but their only real ideas were the names of the guys in "Blue's Clues" -- Joe and Steve. Since I wasn't really interested in naming my baby after a toddler's television show that annoyed the crap out of me, I decided they could name one of the baby's toys. They picked the dog, and that was that.

Calvin was only three weeks old when he decided Joe was his best friend. Even at that startlingly young age he loved touching Joe and stroking his ears. He became agitated if the dog wasn't with him at bedtime, or any other time really. Being the brilliant mother that I am, I promptly went out and bought two other identical dogs so we would never be without a Joe.

Ha! Did that plan ever backfire on me. Little did I know that the dogs were not, in fact, identical. For the life of me, I couldn't tell one from the other, but Calvin always could. When he could finally communicate, he let us know that Joe's ears feel different than the other Joes. Who knew? I don't think I was ever once able to fool him into accepting the Joe that was not "real."

Calvin turns seven next week, and Joe has been with him every step of the way. Once upon a time Joe was extremely soft and fluffy. Now . . . not so much. His fluff is completely gone, which begs the question, where the heck did it disappear to? And if you hold him up to the light, you can see sunlight through his worn out body. He is now called "Stinky Joe" because I have been informed that Joe does not like baths. On the rare occasions that I am able to pry Joe away, Calvin has had to make do with "Not-so-Stinky Joe" or "Fluffy Joe," now totally recognizable due to the fact that they are not gray or stinky.

But Stinky Joe got a bath this week. He decided that while he had tried being stinky for a while, maybe it was time to try living on the other side of the fence. So when I threw some sheets in the wash, Joe hitched a ride. Unfortunately for Joe, I picked the wrong sheets to be washed with -- Rose's flaming, sear-your-eyes pink sheets. The new fluorescent sheets that had been washed only once before. You can see where this is going can't you?

Joe isn't gray anymore. And I would be in the doghouse if I hadn't immediately used copious amounts of bleach and then declared to Calvin that Joe is now "the color of clean." Hope he doesn't ask why clean looks rather pink.