johnvano.com: Meet the New Dog

This is Toby, our new canine-child. He's my wife's Christmas present and she treats him very similarly to how each of our natural born human-childs have been treated. Personally, I see Toby more as that distant cousin who's staying for the weekend--I'm being very tolerant, but not very engaging.

Toby's a good dog. I think my children are beautiful, and Toby isn't a bad looking mammal, but I certainly wouldn't stop in my tracks to pet him. However, that is not how most people act around this little moppet. We took Toby out on Day 2 of his entry into our family, and townsfolk ooh-ed and aah-ed all over him. He was much more a chick-magnet than my twin daughters ever were. If you're a single guy and reading this blog, I need to be honest with you, you won't meet any single women at johnvano.com--but you could--if you got a little Toby dog.

Toby is a maltipoo. Maltipoos are half maltese and half poodle. Either poodles are dangerously attracted to maltese or some sick Svengali is dimming the lights, serving red wine, and playing a little Barry White on the poodle-maltese play dates. If you'd like a maltipoo but don't have any Barry White music, I'd recommend you visit CSPuppies.com--because that's what we did. You can pick out your pooch from their online catalog and they'll jet him to your nearest airport all the way from Donna, Texas.

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I have just a couple of quick, fun facts about Toby and then I'm done:

His name is a nod to country stud Toby Keith. Paula flirted with naming him Obi because Marshall is a Star Wars freak, but I prudently suggested that the name Toby was stronger.
He has virtually trained himself to go to the door when he has to urinate or defecate. It's amazing.
I can't quite grasp that he's alive. He is like something Hasbro invented that cuddles up to you and doesn't move, that makes little pathetic coughs, and doesn't make a mess when it wets.
He is very co-dependent. He's too little to be left to his own devices while we're sleeping, so we put him in a big crate in the basement. He barks (or should I say chirps) most of the night. He's a wuss. But, you can't really hear him because his barks are so effeminate. When I put him in the crate and close the door, he stands up and drapes his paws over the bars and looks out at you like he's in Cell Block D. It's funny.
He doesn't have fur and doesn't shed. They're calling it "hair," actually. Paula has convinced Marshall that he's not really kissing dog fur, but hair--so pucker up! I am the one hold-out who refuses to kiss this dog. Thank you very much.
And lastly, like most poodles he has runny eye boogers. So the area under his eyes tends to turn brown and you have to cleanse him periodically. But that's okay, I guess.