And Men Make Dogs

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the sausage is made.”                                                          

The insensitive remark came at the end of a grueling hour, which included soiling myself, tearing my perineum, and ultimately passing a puppy through the lower half of my body.

“Evelyn, Joseph--you have yourselves a dachshund.” 

After carrying him for two months, the moment finally arrived when I laid eyes on my little boy. While I've never understood what women find so enchanting about newborn babies, puppies, on the other hand, are a visual marvel with their big eyes, tiny paws, and floppy ears. Babies, in my eyes, resemble shriveled-up raisins, but I've noticed that women see them differently. Perhaps that's why women give birth to babies and men, well, we give birth to dogs.

We already knew the sex and breed from the ultrasound, but the true surprise was the color, which remained a mystery until their arrival. I had thought I'd exhausted all my tears during labor, but they welled up again when I saw his creamy coat adorned with brown speckles on his back.

“He’s got a little cinnamon sprinkle,” said Evelyn. “He’s like a latte.”

His warm brown eyes locked with mine. He tried to bark, but all he could muster was a feeble squeak.

 “I think we have it,” I said, lifting our puppy into the air.

“Are you sure? It’s your say; you did all the work.”

“We made him together, honey,” I replied. I held him so his tiny tail paddled the air beside Evelyn’s radiant smile. “You’re my sweet bean--and he’s my little Latte.”

---

The next few weeks were spent recovering at our townhome in Detroit’s Indian Village. The doctor’s instructions were to keep it easy while the abrasion between my thighs healed. As I coddled Latte on the couch,  Evelyn coddled me--dutifully climbing the stairs on my behalf and lifting heavy objects I could not. Every morning, she’d bring down a new outfit for me to wear and take the old one up to the laundry. She’d march the groceries out of the car all by herself, even the bags of kibble that were half her weight. In those early days,  Evelyn's boundless devotion captured my heart, and I cherished her for it.

I would return to the hospital at the end of the month to have the staples removed from my groin. Until then, I deliberately kept Latte off social media to maintain my privacy during the healing process. As I waddled out to Evelyn’s car after my appointment, I asked her if the time was right for the big reveal. She agreed, and on our way home, we stopped at our favorite coffee shop for the perfect photo to introduce our fur baby to the world.

I’m a wedding photographer by profession, and my eye works just as well on animals. I placed our puppy in an oversized coffee mug with the cafe’s name on the front--Mahogany’s. Latte curled up concentrically with the bottom of the cup, and in that moment, the framing aligned. I pulsed the shutter button and spared no film.

Suddenly, a flurry of rustic orange fell from the top of the frame and landed on Latte’s belly. I let the camera dangle around my neck and looked at Evelyn sprinkling spices from a tin shaker onto our boy.

“Are you the effects team?” I asked. 

“I’m your makeup department,” said Evelyn. “All his sprinkles were on his back. He needed some on his front.”

“Brilliant, bean. The cinnamon adds a nice touch.” I adjusted my focus till the speckles came in sharp. “Now it really screams fall baby.”

I raised my camera at Evelyn’s face and coaxed her into smiling with the twinkle in my eye. She immediately posed with the shaker, like an actress modeling with an award. As I snapped a few photos, I laughed, inhaling some of the dust hanging in the air. It smelled like pastries, which was delightful momentarily, but then I realized it lacked the subtle heat of cinnamon.

“Wait a minute.” Its earthiness touched the back of my tongue. “Oh baby, no!” I quickly grabbed the mug with Latte still in it. The bathroom was locked, so I ran into the kitchen. The cup went into the sink, and I turned the faucet. As the water rose, I splashed it onto Latte’s chest. Some of the particulates remained on his roots. I grabbed a sponge and scrubbed vigorously.

“Sir, you don’t belong back here,” said the barista, their arms crossed in annoyance.

Evelyn pushed the employee aside and repeated urgently in my ear. “What’s the matter? What are you doing?”

“It’s nutmeg, damn it. You sprinkled nutmeg on him.”

“Oh?” Evelyn’s bewildered expression said it didn’t quite register.

“Nutmeg is toxic to dogs, honey!” My scrubbing circles tightened as my brow furrowed deeper.

“I thought it was cinnamon.”

“And you knew cinnamon wasn’t poisonous to dogs?”

"I guess... not.” A look of self-doubt settled over her.

“These are the questions we got to start asking ourselves, Ev,” I said. “If we’re going to make the best dog parents ever, we have to keep an eye on all the little details!”

I turned off the tap, and Evelyn’s arm immediately reached in front of my face with a towel in its grip.

My voice softened. “Thank you, baby.” I swaddled our hairy infant. 

Evelyn put her arms around me from behind and pressed her cheek against my neck. “I’ll be more cautious next time. My head’s not right; we got up so early for your appointment.”

“It’s alright, sweet bean. We’re both tired.” I delicately pecked her cheek. “Sorry for being so dramatic. Our puppy is gonna be just fine.”

---

Over the next few months, Latte rarely left my eye, which meant sacrificing some time spent with friends. Leaving him in Evelyn’s care for the night, I planned to reunite with my crew at our monthly beer club. However, the thrill of independence when you leave your dog in someone else’s care is short-lived. Only fifteen minutes after arriving at the brewery, Latte came back to mind. There was a mascot on my can of a doxie in a bowler hat sipping a frothy pint. For one night, I wanted to feel like a younger me without a living thing in my care. Instead, I felt like a bummy dog dad. I wasn’t sure why; it’s not like I left Latte in the arms of some stranger.

I tried to soothe my heartache by showing some photos to the other club members. There were pictures of him sleeping like an angel, playing with his teething sticks, and even one dressed as a Coney.

“That could honestly be the cutest dog in Detroit,” said Kavan, our club president. “And I’ve seen a one-eyed poodle dancing in Mexicantown.”

“How long were you together when you had him?” asked Lenny. Lenny was my roommate back in art school before I moved in with Evelyn. He’s why I joined the club and is the only member close to my age.

“A year and a half,” I replied.

“Maybe I should have one soon. I’ve been dating Jim for three years,” replied Lenny. “Our dogs could be friends!”

“You guys have this all out of order,” said Kavan. “Only have a dog together after you’re married.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” replied Lenny. “The whole reason men make dogs is to see if their partner is marriage material. If they suck raising a dog, they’ll suck raising a kid.”

“I don’t think it should play a factor in that decision,” said Kavan. “You're marrying them to love them, not 'cause they're the perfect hen.”

“Some dogs don’t come planned at all,” I said.

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” asked Lenny.

“Latte was a happy accident.”

“You cried together- by accident?”

“We did, in fact,” I replied. “We were drinking vodka and watching Up. I’m not sure what brought it on, but we started to make out. Then our tears started getting awfully close, and, well, it only takes two to make a dog.”

“You idiot.”

“Lenny!” exclaimed Kavan.

“It’s alright,” I said. “It was foolish, but it worked out in my case ‘cause I got the best dog, and I’m the best dog dad ever.” I stuffed my remaining beers in my jacket pockets. “Which is why I’ll have my last two at home… Seeya, gentleman.”

“Oh, at least stay for the triple chocolate porter,” said Kavan.

“That IPA went straight to my head. I can’t drink another drop, or I won’t be able to drive.” I spun my key around my finger. “I swear it won’t be so long next time you see me.”

The drive to my townhouse was brief with the evening’s light traffic. As soon as I parked my car, I cracked open the beer I had saved and let the smooth stout pour over my tastebuds. The foam sizzled in my sinuses and left behind the warm aroma of bread and cocoa. I was shocked when I opened the door, and repugnance rudely interrupted the redolence.

“Bean, what happened in here?” I said into the dark. My hand left my nose and landed on the light switch. The couch appeared covered in two down pillows and a girlfriend. “Baby- wake up!”

“Unnnn-” Evelyn groaned like a howling cavern. 

While she continued through her sleep, Latte scuttled in out of nowhere. When I knelt to scratch his head, I noticed the sodden, brown streak trailing behind him. It led back to a stere of excrement under the ottoman.

“Evelyn, haven’t you been watching him?” I cradled Latte and took him to the kitchen sink to wipe off his bottom. Along my path, I gave Evelyn’s shoulder a gentle prod.

“Oh babe, did I pass out?” She raised her face off the armrest. The staticky upholstery deformed her hairstyle.

“You weren’t watching our boy.” I struggled to control my tone as I scraped the crust off Latte’s tail.

“I was, sweetie. I just passed out for a second.”

The muscles in my forehead tightened. “I don’t like accusing you, but have you been taking him outside?”

“Of course, honey--a couple times.”

“Well, he just went on the carpet, so it needs to be more!”  I massaged the tension in my face, getting bubbles on my roots. The parallels were glaring--my dog in the sink again, my frustration at the surface. “I need your help if we’re gonna reinforce his potty training.”

“I swear he went outside every other time.”

I put Latte on the kitchen tile. He shook the water off his bottom, tapping his paws back to Evelyn. He lifted onto his hind legs and scratched the couch cushion. Evelyn helped him back up onto the seat.

“We talked about how worried I was leaving him,” I said. “I thought you could look after him by yourself.”

“I can! You’re just being grumpy 'cause you’re tipsy.”

“I barely drank, babe. This is serious stuff right now,” I replied. “I’ve caught you slipping before. Sometimes, you forget to take him out after I leave for work, and when I come home, there isn’t any food in his bowl.”

“I didn’t know he had a precise dinner time.”

“Yes--everyday--5’o’clock. It’s his lunch, too, so he’s starving by then!”

“Now that I know, I won’t forget.” Evelyn’s defensive glower transformed into a sly smirk. “You need to relax, honey.”

I brushed off her nonchalant attitude and glanced at the wall clock. “Why would you even be asleep? It’s only nine.”

“I took an edible.”

“Well, that wasn’t very responsible.”

“I mean- they were for you! I was just testing them,” she said. “Please, check the oven.”

I swung down its door and pulled out the broiler rack. A glass tray sat on its grate. I pulled back the tin foil and revealed a sheet of blonde brownies mixed with nuts and white chocolate.

“You made macadamia brookies?”

“Weed macadamia brookies. Your favorite.”

“It is.” I picked up a corner piece and took a bite. My eyes suddenly eased their intensity. “This is quite good. It’s a lot harder to stay mad at you.”

“Then just don’t be mad at me.”

“It’s instinctual.” I indulged in another bite, savoring the delectable flavors. “A whole other side of masculinity gets exposed after you birth a dog. I’m more nurturing now, but it’s made me fiercely protective.”

“And I like those qualities in you,” replied Evelyn. She came into the kitchen, cradling Latte like a baby. “I don’t mean to oppose them.”

I popped the last bite of brookie in my mouth and reached beneath Evelyn's silky locks. With a gentle stroke, my fingers trailed down her face and neck before tickling Latte's ear. “I just wanna see you put in more of an effort,” I expressed softly. “Without a doubt, you’re a great girlfriend, but I want you to be a good dog mom, too.”

---

The cannabis inside the brookies helped ease the tension between myself and Evelyn, and we found ourselves melting into the couch together, and with the right movie added in, that soon turned to melting into each other. Much like our experience with Up, a night of intoxication and The Shape of Water led us to further levels of intimacy.

“You made love to The Shape of Water?” asked Lenny the next day. I visited his apartment to see a sample of his art show next month.

“It’s oddly attractive when you're stoned,” I replied.

“And you didn’t wear protection?”

“As I said--we were pretty stoned.” I approached the easel in his bedroom for a better view of his new painting. Taking up most of the canvas was a spherical teardrop in the center. A much smaller teardrop with a long, wriggling tail pierced its surface with its head.

“Do you feel ready for kids?” asked Lenny.

“I think so,” I replied. “I’d be more certain if Evelyn was too.”

“She doesn’t want them?”

“She can’t handle ‘em,” I said. “She’s terrible with Latte, Lenny.”

“Oh- I’m sorry to hear that.”

“There’s no way I’d have kids with her, which leads me to ask myself--is that something I need from my girlfriend?”

“Probably not now. You’re still young.”

I turned away from the painting with subtle panic on my face. “I’m twenty-six. My parents had me at twenty-seven.”

“Well, if you’re considering breaking up, make sure you get a good lawyer,” said Lenny. “You don’t want Evelyn taking custody. She might not raise him well, but she sure loves him.”

“She wouldn’t try that--I don’t think,” I said. “Why would a court give it to the mother anyway? He came out of me!”

“Women appear more nurturing. It’s Mother Nature, after all,” replied Lenny.

“Shit.”

“Look, I don’t mean to worry you. I just want to make sure you still have a dog for mine to play with!” said Lenny. He walked past me and rested an arm over his artwork. “Jim and I just had our first go at making one.”

“That’s amazing, man. How’d that go?”

“There was an Ed Sheeran concert last night. He closed out with a Bowie medley, and we both started bawling. On the car ride home, Jim laid his head on mine. A little moisture surely mixed.”

“Do you care which of you carries the puppy?”

“I’m kind of hoping it’s Jim. I just bought a jacuzzi, man. Did you know you can’t use those if you’re preggo?”

“It’s common sense. You don’t want to boil a puppy inside you.”

“Yeah…” Lenny looked off into the corner of the room. “I really hope it’s Jim.”

---

It’s manageable to bury your problems when their repercussions aren’t immediate. Getting prodigiously high and neglecting a prophylactic did not result in a pregnancy, so the scrutiny of my partner’s parenting skills slipped from my mind for another few months. I began picking up the extra slack Evelyn left to maintain our relationship. It didn’t really bother me; Latte felt more like my responsibility to start with. He’s a living, breathing piece of me.

“He slipped off his leash?”

I was content with Evelyn not parenting as much, but my anger boiled over when she began actively putting Latte in harm’s way. She led me through the dark, the lights on our phones crisscrossing over our neighbors’ yards. 

“I was taking him for a walk. He saw a squirrel and pulled his neck out.” Evelyn raised the teal leash and dilated its loop. “I’ve been telling you it seems too big for him.”

I looked at her skeptically and asked, “Is that the truth?”

Evelyn's expression faltered, revealing a tinge of frustration. "Baby, yes.”

Porch lights activated up the street, having sensed some sort of movement. We walked double speed to investigate, but the front yard was empty on our arrival.

“Ev, if you weren’t on a walk, he’d be closer to our apartment. I need to know what actually happened.”

“I’ve told you.” She started walking into the adjacent yard, shining her flashlight at the topiary.

“Would you be too embarrassed to admit you just left the door open?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t do that! I’m not an idiot.”

“Honey, the door frame’s warped. You’ve got to pull it extra hard.”

“I do!” Evelyn redirected her flashlight into my eyes, forcing me backward. “Why would I lie?”

“You’re trying to save this relationship,” I replied.

“I have to save it?”

“You do if you let him out.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed, and her jaw fell open. “How could you say that?”

“You haven’t noticed how little I leave you alone with him?”
“Of course I have; I’ve just accepted it--I’m not the best with dogs.” She lowered her light down to our feet and approached me. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be together.”

I stepped forward and laid my hand on her shoulder. “You lost a part of me. That makes it hard to trust you.”

“So you don’t love me anymore?”

“Of course I do. That’s what makes this hard.” My hand pulled off her and rubbed the sweat away from my eyes. “When you mistreat Latte, our whole future becomes hazy. How can I count on you if we have kids one day?”

“Dog moms aren’t the same as mom moms,” replied Evelyn. She put a hand on her navel. “I’d be a good mother.”

“You’re confident?”

“I am. I’d keep better watch over something that spent nine months living inside me. I mean, all you had were two.”

Suddenly, a soft mechanical whir filled the air, stealing our attention. Headlights peaked over the hill up the road. An electric car crawled slowly to the edge of the street. Its wheels clanged the sewer grate as it came to a stop beside us.

“You two don’t happen to be looking for a lost dog?” said a voice from the window.

I couldn’t see the driver till they flicked on their dome lights, revealing an old gentleman in a yacht hat and a sports coat. He held up a squirming Latte, palming him in one hand like a writhing footlong.

“Oh, thank goodness!” I exclaimed.

“Where did you find him?” asked Evelyn.

The old man held Latte out the window for me to grab. “The poor thing ran out into the middle of the street. Luckily, my front sensors saw him 'cause I sure didn’t--jostled me up real good when the brakes suddenly shot on.”

I claimed Latte from the man's hand, clutching him tightly to my chest. “Were you injured?” I asked the man.

“No! Of course not. Just wanted you to know it was a close call.” 

Latte immediately crawled up my neck and delivered kisses to my chin. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Oh, it’s alright. I’m just glad I found you two so fast. Wasn’t sure how long I could look after a dog. They’ve always seemed like too much work.” The man’s eyes fell off Latte, then checked his wristwatch. “I really must be going.”

“Thanks again,” I said.

The man shut off his car light and rolled his window up. The car sped off with a low hum.

I turned to Evelyn, who held out her hand to pet our puppy. I stepped backward into the street, keeping Latte out of reach.

“You won’t let me near him?”

“He was almost hit if it weren’t for the grace of that man’s smart car.” I looked down at Latte to catch him licking a crack on his dewclaw. “He’s not safe around you.”

“But we live together.”

“That might need a pause.”

“A pause?” Streetlights refracted through the tears now dripping down her face. “We’ve been together so long.”

“I need to consider what’s right for Latte.” My eyes welled up, too, as my heart divided in my chest. One side was like a wild animal making a wall between its cub and a predator. The other was a hand clinging desperately to Evelyn. 

Evelyn spoke through an uncontrollable whimper. “You can take him and go and never see me again, but I’d do anything to keep you.”

“I don’t know what I’d want from you.”

“I could take a class--make myself a better owner,” she said. 

“Is that something that exists?” I asked. “Is that something that can be taught?”

“Please. It’s worth a try.” She stood there, trembling and vulnerable, waiting for me to patch it all up with a big bear hug and a kiss on her forehead.

 My arms stayed firmly fixed to Latte.

“Please,” she repeated. “Don’t get rid of me.”

---

They say a dog is man’s best friend, but does that really capture the complicated connection between a man and his genetically distant offspring? This isn’t some casual relationship forged with beer and mutual interests; I’m joined to Latte by the masculine urge to keep things alive.

“Push baby, push!” 

Jim and I stood on opposite sides of Lenny--two months had swelled him like puff pastry.

A dark spot formed on Jim’s surgical mask as he spoke. “Come on, honey. We can see the first one!”

The grand plan of the universe had blessed Jim and Lenny with twin bulldogs. I tried to imagine the amount of thankless labor put into Latte, then multiplied that by two. I couldn’t have handled it, not while working alone, but these two had each other.

I’d consider another dog for myself if and when I have the right partner. I’d like someone to help me take care of Latte first. Then, have another when we're older with more money.

“One more push!” said the doctor. “Here he comes-uh, oh. Nurse, umbilical scissors.”

“Is something wrong?” cried out Lenny.

The nurse came up to Jim’s shoulder. “We just need to remove his chord.”

“But he’s not all the way out.”

“It’s around his neck. It needs to happen now.”

As the doctor snipped away at the fleshy, pink snare, I had to avert my gaze. I couldn’t catch what were possibly the final moments of someone else’s newborn--I felt like I intruded on something that wasn’t mine to see. My eyes ran away right into Jim’s, where all the excitement had been drained and replaced with passionless fear. His blank expression was either a mask to hide his true horror or a complete emotional shutdown. 

“We need another push,” said the nurse.

Lenny's face strained, dropping all his tears and sweat into his beard. “Is he okay? Is my dog okay?” he gasped.

At that moment, as I watched two men grapple with the terror of losing their puppy, I witnessed a profound transformation--the moment of refinement--the raw sewage of manhood cured into something delicate and beautiful. While their whelp’s life hung in the balance, it had already bored out a new capacity for love in their hearts. With closed eyes, I found solace in the thought of Latte patiently waiting at home, and I felt wholeness amid the uncertainty.

A faint squeak broke the silence.