It seemed logical. I, Willy, had a wish, I love my dog, and I wished my dog, Fifo, could speak, so I could understand what he (Fifo) was trying to tell me. I spend all day at work as an executive assistant (a fancy name for a secretary), and go home on my lunch break to walk Fifo, feed Fifo, eat my lunch, and go back to work. But, there are a lot of times I’m not quite sure what Fifo is saying. For example, one time I was eating my dinner and Fifo was begging at the table and I scolded him. Then, Fifo went to the door and urinated on my tile floor. Now, if he’d been able to say, “Mommy, I need to go outside,” it seemed like both Fifo and me would be happy. So, that’s what I wished for and the nightmare began.
The first thing Fifo said was, “Meat. I want meat,” which was understandable but also irrational. Meat is expensive and dog food is cheap. Spending $300 a month for Fifo’s meals would be impractical and silly. So, I scolded him.
“No, this meat is for Mommy. You have some delicious dog food right there (I pointed to his bowl) which you can have anytime you want. This is mine.”
“But, I want meat,” Fifo said.
I rolled my eyes. This is what I wished for? Well, now I know.
Then, the next morning, Fifo said, “Get up! Get up!”
I rolled over and looked at the clock: 5 am.
“What? What is it? Why you getting me up? What’s wrong?”
Fifo wagged his tail but there was a fierce look in his eye and he said, “Squirrel. Outside. I need to protect our property.”
I paused to think about this.
“No, Fifo. Mommy really doesn’t care about . . .”
“Fifo has to go chase the squirrel,” Fifo said.
I roll my eyes. I tried to think of a way to explain to Fifo that I don’t give a shit about a squirrel. Robbers, fires, carbon monoxide monitors, yes, but a goddamn squirrel?
So I say louder, “Mommy doesn’t care about squirrels. Mommy cares about sleep . . .”
But Fifo interrupts me again: “I care about squirrel. Got to chase the squirrel off our property.”
Even if he’d woken me up at 5 am to go potty, I’d understand, but this I don’t. But that was my wish. Then I think of one of the main reasons I made this wish and I pet Fifo, even though he’s excited about the squirrel and I whisper into his ear, “I love you, Fifo. I know you’d never leave me and you love me no matter what,” and I kiss him on his cute little dog lips.
Fifo gets excited and says to me, “Mommy. I love you, Mommy. Does this mean I get a Milkbone? I love Milkbones and I love it when YOU give me Milkbones.”
Then I start feeling like shit. Maybe the only reason why Fifo loves me is because I’m giving him treats and some attention. I thought he loved me because I’m me. Unconditionally. So, I ask him, “Fifo, do you love me or do you love the Milkbones?”
Fifo thinks and says, “I love it when you give me Milkbones”.
I sigh and clarify myself: “Me or the Milkbones: who do you love more?”
“I’ll lick you and give you lovings if you give me a Milkbone.”
I feel depressed. All this time, I thought Fifo was loving me and everything about me, but he really only loved me for giving him treats, food, some attention, and walking him. So, I see if there’s another wish available, but there’s not and there’s no way to unwish a wish. People first started cohabiting with dogs since dogs give protection and humans gave dogs some of their food for the protection. But, humans have alarm systems and doorbells now, so we don’t need protection, but we need something or someone to give us the feeling of the antithesis of loneliness. Then, we know, that if something happened, like I was run over by a bus or shot, someone would care. Dogs are supposed to make us feel like we’re part of the pack. Not just part of the pack, but the star of the pack. Before when I came home Fifo would wag his tail and jump all over me and be really excited I was home and I thought it was because he loves me and misses me all day. Now, though, that he can talk, I hear him say, “Yea! Mommy’s home. She’s messy and her food will fall on the floor so I can eat her food. Yea, more food for Fifo!”
I wish I made a better wish and sometimes wish I could find a man who could be the dog I thought I had. A man who would really listen to all the words I say instead of half-listening and offering advice. Sometimes when Fifo’s asleep I slowly move him towards my chest so I can pretend Fifo really loves me and isn’t just trying get to more food for himself. And sometimes I wish God had made a creature that could love me unconditionally. And sometimes I wish I could take back my wish. Sometimes.
I tried to keep the media away but it was a worthless battle. Talk shows, newscasters, Nickelodeon, and every other network contacted me once they found out Fifo could talk, which was a Pain in the Ass. 3 am, CNN calls and tries to set up “an exclusive interview with Fifo. Acting Agents call wanting to set up tours. Ripley’s Believe it or Not and after a while I forget which one had called. I realize now not only would I have to be an Executive Assistant at work, but at home, too, for Fifo or all things. Remember when the dog served the master? Those days are over. I am now officially Fifo’s Executive Assistant. So, I start a spread sheet for Fifo. Imagine me answering the phone:
“This is Fifo’s office. How can I direct your call?”
“This is HLN, we’d like to have a phone interview with Fifo please. Is he available?” They ask.
”No, Fifo is not available until June 15h of next year, would you like to schedule an interview for then?”
“We can talk 24/7, is there anything sooner?” They ask.
“Let me check with him,” and I put this asshole on hold for five minutes.
“How about 2 am on February 29th?”
So, we agree on this ridiculous time and day, for fucking Fifo.
Then, the doorbell starts going off. Everyone wants to talk to Fifo and, strangely, no one wants to talk to me. I’m just Fifo’s freaking executive Assistant.