The mysterious signs appeared without warning. Suddenly, overnight, they were everywhere. Bleary-eyed, I got into the shower and discovered a sign stuck to a bottle of shampoo. A few minutes later, as I reached for my toothbrush, my hand found another. My husband encountered one taped to his razor, and another in his sock drawer.
Downstairs, there were signs attached to the coffee mugs. Yet more were taped to the front of the stove, to the handle of the refrigerator, and over several electrical outlets.
The signs were all hand-lettered on strips of white paper, and included the same little pictures: A footprint on one side and the face of an animal with floppy ears, a sticky-out tongue, and a cheerful, eager expression on the other. In between, in capital letters, every one of the signs said simply: “DOG.”
“I feel as though someone is trying to send us a message,” I said to my husband after I’d fought my way through the flurry of notes and made us each a cup of coffee.
“Yes,” said he, “But what is it, exactly?”
“Look, here are more clues,” I said, pointing to the kitchen counter. Papers were strewn across it, each page covered with tiny writing. We looked closer.
“List of Dog Girl Names: Gabby, Natalie, Grace, Sadie, Katie, Lila,” said the first.
“List of Dog Boy Names: Dash, Steve, Ace, Ash, Clarence, Bill, Max, Steve,” said the second.
“List of Both Sexes Names: Dusty, Do/Mo,” said the third.
Beneath that was a “List of Dog Stuff.” The writing here was especially dense. It read:
1. As a shoulder to cry on
2. As a playful friend
3. As a family child
4. He/she will make us exercise
5. Fun so we can have a bath buddy
6. As a snuggly pillow
7. Can go on jogs
8. Good because we love giving dogs baths and playing ball
My husband and I looked at each other. This was serious. When someone writes “as a snuggly pillow” on a list of attributes, the wise parent does not dismiss it out of hand.
We turned back to the papers. The last of them bore yet another list. This one was titled “Things to Bye for Your Dog” and it almost vibrated with earnestness: “A crate, dog treats, dog food, dog chew toys, a dog bed, a collar/leash, lots of plastic bags, if a big dog you will need a baby pool, dog shampoo (if long-haired dog, conditioner), grooming supplies.”
For years, our children have petitioned for a dog. They have tried every argument, each more flowery and persuasive than the last, and several times they have nudged us almost to the brink — at which point we have quailed and retreated.
But this campaign was different. As advertisers and political consultants know, the most powerful message tends to be the simplest. A single word, such as “COKE” or “HOPE,” is often more likely to penetrate the minds of the inattentive masses than a wordier or more complicated message.
That night I got into bed, opened my book, and in place of a bookmark found a sign: “DOG.”
“I guess it’s time,” I said, showing it to my husband.
He smiled and nodded. “Yes it is.”
Meghan Cox Gurdon’s column appears on Sunday and Thursday. She can be contacted at [email protected].
