“It’s here. It’s here,” Terri said, from the living room. “I just got the email.”
A moment later she was in the home office, carrying her laptop and wearing a smile. She sat down on the couch and pecked away at the keyboard.
“I’m so excited,” she said. “I can hardly wait.”
“Me too,” I said. “What is it I’m excited about?”
“Butch’s college admission application.”
“Butch is a—“
Terri clapped her hands as she stared at the laptop resting on her legs and shouted. “Yay, he’s been accepted. Butch has been accepted at USC.”
I waited for her to settle down, wondering how I was going to break the news to her. I thought the direct method would be the best.
“Butch is a dog,” I said. “Our dog, but still a dog.”
“Now don’t go ruining the moment,” she said. “He’s worked so hard to achieve this.”
“Butch failed the Basic Training class at the Y. Training 101, remember?”
“The instructor had it in for him,” she said.
“That was after Butch peed on his ankle.”
I looked across the room at Terri. She was genuinely happy for Butch. I was too. I was also more than a little concerned over the mental state of my wife. I felt it was probably not in my best interest to state that, but I was going to have to find out more about how our dog had been admitted to a bastion of higher education.
“I didn’t realize Butch was applying to, uh, to colleges,” I said.
On cue Butch waddled into the home office and went over to Terri, sniffing her jeans for what had to be the one hundredth time today.
“Oh, yes,” Terri said. “Remember a while back when you sent in a credit card application for him to see what would happen, and he was approved?”
“Yes, I cut the card up right away in case he decided to walk to Petco. Not that he could find it on his own, but just in case,” I said.
“Well, after that I got thinking about how many other things a dog could probably get, so I made a list,” Terri said, typing something and then reading. “I made a spreadsheet to keep track of all his applications. He’s been approved to vote. We’re still working on the driver’s license. And then after the college admission scandal thing, I figured let’s give college a shot. Now I can check that off.”
“Have you thought of taking up tennis?” I asked. “You know, with all this time you have?”
“I figured I’d just start applying to schools and see what happened. And wouldn’t you know it, USC’s application moved along quickly. Here take a look.”
Terri stood up and brought the laptop over to me. I looked at the acceptance letter welcoming Butch.
Congratulations, Butch! On behalf of the entire administration, admissions staff, and custodial crew, we welcome you as the newest member of the class of 2024.
I went to his application and read through it. Butch was apparently a very good student. He was also involved in plenty of extracurriculars and clubs.
“Wow,” I said. “He plays water polo?”
“Oh, yes,” Terri said, “I think that was what sealed it. Click on the little attachment thingy.”
I did, and lo and behold here was a photo of a man playing water polo. Except the man’s face was Butch’s face, underneath the water polo cap, of course.
“This didn’t raise any red flags?” I asked.
“Oh, I heard from someone in the admissions department. They asked if he had a, uh, condition I think is the term she used. I said he was letting his facial hair grow out,” Terri said.
“I guess not technically a lie,” I said.
“Oh, it was more than enough reassurance. Especially when I told her our family planned to donate money for a new training pool for the team.”
“We can’t afford the water for the pool, let alone the pool,” I said.
“Oh, I know, I just wanted to see how far all this would go,” she said.
I looked down. Butch was sitting, staring up at me like he was waiting for me to perform a magic trick, or maybe do a poetry reading. He was going to do great in lectures, I thought. Then he slowly lowered himself onto his side, stretched out and rolled onto his back with his paws up in the air.
Maybe a lecture hall wasn’t the place for him after all.
I browsed his application and saw his essay, and ACT score.
“He apparently tests very well,” I said.
“I had that little genius down the street take if for him. You know, the kid that hacked the town’s traffic light grid,” Terri said.
“Ah, yes, the great Saturday Smash Up.”
“Such a nice young man. He wouldn’t take any money for it. Said it would be good practice. He made himself a fake ID to get in.”
“And the essay?” I asked, as I read it. “It says here as a mixed breed canine he knows what it’s like to be oppressed and made to feel like an outsider by all the pure breeds, and designer cross-breed dogs.”
“Well, he does,” Terri said. “Didn’t you ever see the way he gets all down around those dogs? They’re keeping him down.”
Butch got up, walked to the center of the room, and flopped down on the carpet in the sun. He sighed a big sigh and closed his eyes. He’d do just fine in school, I thought.
“Well, he already sleeps like a college kid,” I said.