Out there waiting for his true companion

I write often about our dachshund, Bonnie, but rarely mention our other one,
Billy Ray. That’s because Billy is a one-person dog and that person ain’t me.
He belongs, heart and soul, to my wife.

Billy is obsessed with her to such a degree that, if he were a human, she would have long ago had to obtain a restraining order.

When she goes to the bathroom, Billy accompanies her and watches adoringly. She makes 50 trips up and down the stairs every day. His legs are so short he can’t handle stairs so he insists she carry him. That way he won’t miss anything fascinating, like her making the bed or emptying a wastepaper basket. When I conjure up an image of my wife, I no longer see just her. I see her with a black and cream long-haired dachshund tucked under her arm, and the look on his face is one of triumph -- "She's mine."

When she goes to the mailbox, he sits by the door and waits like Odysseus’ dog waited for him to return from Troy. When she comes back two minutes later, he weeps as if she had been gone 20 years. He will only eat if she’s in the room, encouraging every bite. When I try to talk to her, he begins barking and it’s impossible to continue the conversation until she picks him up, at which point he shuts up. It’s his way of telling me he controls access to her and that he’s allowing me to talk with her. This time.

When we travel back and forth between Connecticut and Florida, he sits in her lap while I'm driving. When she relieves me at the wheel, he immediately climbs into the back to let me know I’m inadequate. But then he tries sneaking back into her lap, which is dangerous, so, after an hour or so, I take over again.

She’s gone right now on an overnight trip and he is beyond distraught. Yesterday afternoon he sat by the door through which she left, shaking like a leaf. He hasn't eaten for 24 hours and I don’t think he slept, either. When I switched off the bedroom light last night, he was staring at the door, trying to will her to walk through it. When I woke up, he was still staring. This morning he keeps nodding off but then jerks awake and runs into the other room to see if she has returned. I feel sorry for him because, in his mind, she has probably been murdered and fed into a wood chipper.

She’ll be back this afternoon. Billy’s joy will know no bounds.

I love her. Our sons love her. Her mother and brother love her. But nobody will ever, ever love my wife as purely and intensely as Billy.

I have to admit I’m a bit jealous of a 10-pound wiener dog, but it is impossible not to love a little creature who can love someone like that.