Shelton resting his head on Adam’s lap on the way home from the farm.

They say a gay boy’s best friend is his mum. That is, unless you have a dog. Then, the dog comes first. Always.

It’s especially true when there’s a couple involved… the dog becomes the couple’s child. Pampered, spoiled, and utterly adored. Big dog or little dog, it doesn’t matter.

It was most upsetting today to go visit a dear friend of mine, X, whose little Foxy Terrier passed away yesterday. He was jogging down the road with her on the leash, fumbled the leash for a second, the dog darted off and right in front of a speeding car. Finito. All over. I really felt for X, as he’s been through some rough times lately and this dog was bringing so much joy into his life and that of his partner. I went to see him up in the mountains, and have some very nice coffeeHe gave me some of his dog’s food to take home with me… looking at the half-open bag of pork treats in the car, I couldn’t help but shed a tear. Beside me was Adam, with Shelton curled up at his feet and his head on Adam’s lap. That was when the photo above was taken. I couldn’t help but remind myself just how special both of those boys were in my life.

I’d just had a big weekend with my boys… we headed up to the farm and Shelton was pretending he was a country dog. Riding on the back of the ute in Bathurst, running beside the ute as we went looking for kangaroos, chasing said kangaroos, then chasing some cows before ploking himself exhausted into the freezing cold dam. Typical labrador. A few weekends ago my 3-year-old nephew was proudly telling his mum that he was playing with the “big dog” and that “Shelton is a boofhead!”, copying my words exactly Too cute!

I can’t even imagine how I would feel if something ever happened to Shelton. Let alone Adam, the doting, obsessive mother who thinks a bump on the head from rough play is cause enough to go to the vet. He really is “our little boy”, and Adam takes the role of the fussy mother whilst I am the stern but affectionate father who sneaks him treats when “mum” isn’t looking. In fact Shelton takes after his Dad in a lot of ways… has no class, humps legs, enjoys red wine and coffee, and has a nicotine addiction. In fact, the little sod has eaten about 6 of my ciggie packets when I wasn’t watching, sneaking them off the table when I’m not looking. I don’t think we’d really be a “family” without him. We even take him up to the dog park near where my mother lives, in the ultra-snooty Wahroonga in northern Sydney. I was so proud when I saw him race off full-speed and crash-tackle some fluffy preened poodle into the mud. Then diving headfirst into water bucket before shaking himself beside the soccer mums assembled nearby. That’s my boy!