My little sister’s a real bitch–at least according to Ava. Before anyone gets the wrong idea about my feelings toward my delightful and brilliant sister (who is also my dearest friend), I will explain that Ava’s latest imaginary obsession has been to pretend that she is a puppy dog, surrounded by other naughty and rambunctious canines who do her bidding. Ava has insisted on being both “Mama Dog” and “Baby Dog” at different times during this game (lately, she’s been a young pup named “Sprinkles”), but my sister consistently has been Ava’s “Sister Dog.”
Their game reached new levels of gripping excitement and intensity during our recent trip to northern Minnesota, during which my long-suffering sister had to spend hours pretending to pant, pee on bushes, and beg for treats. And after 10 days of campfires with marshmallows, beautiful hikes, trips to the doughnut shop, and hours by the lake, the three creatures Ava missed most upon our departure were Rosie and Cedar (two real dogs who lived at our resort)–and her beloved “Sister Dog.” Each night, before bed, Ava still laments the loss of “Sister Dog”–and confidently assures me that she will make an exception to her self-created “no-dog” rule at her birthday party, so that we can still welcome “Sister Dog” and “Brudder Dog” (my sister’s husband, K) to the festivities.
My baby sister doesn’t have kids yet. She’s been too busy studying at coffeeshops, and trying to inspire roomfuls of indifferent undergraduates, as she works on finishing her Ph.D. in Spanish literature. However, I think she and her husband plan to start trying for kids very soon, and judging from their skills as aunt and uncle, I have no doubt that they’ll be wonderful, patient, loving, and imaginative parents. Throughout the years, I know there have been times that Ava has irritated R–and scared R off from having kids–but I also know that R loves Ava deeply and truly. And when R finally does have children of her own, Ava had better be okay with having a new “Mama Dog” on the block.