From An Island In New Hampshire

By Banah Isaac Wright’s Hollow, New Hampshire

April 17,2023

Ready And Abel Meet Steven Tyler

In the summer of 2008, when Ready and Abel were 14 weeks old, we stopped in at out favorite pet store. We were regulars, usually after work. The staff loved the puppies, we got treats, yakked and had fun.

At this stage, their coats were still straight, shiny black, snowy white on the faces, huge white paws, a white tip on each tail and white ruffs. Ready’s came around to a perfect point on her back neck. Abel’s met and formed a crescent swirl right in the center. They were puppy round, floppy-eared, waddled a bit, Ready shorter than Abel, a little hard to tell apart. They wore silver-on-black Celtic pattern collars with matching leashes and puppy smiles. They made people just melt into puddles.

It was a hot September afternoon, so this time I was just going to grab two big frosted cookies and get them home out of the Subaru. I got up to the counter-it’s a small place, so I noticed a couple at the back with a tiny puppy. “That’s Steve Tyler!” Pat the groomer said. (I have since learned that he prefers “Steven.”) “I’m getting the puppies!” I whispered back.

Now, I have to admit, I am more partial to the Beatles than Aerosmith; nonetheless, “Dream On” is a fantastic song, among others, but even more than that, everyone of my siblings are fervid Steven Tyler fans. They would be all agog. Quickly, I went back out and snapped on their long leashes, and led Ready and Abel in to see what would happen.

When we came in, Steven was at the counter cashing out. Not having any intention of directly approaching him, the puppies and I checked the aisle kind of nearby. He must have seen them out the corner of his eye, because he turned and leaned down.

“Hi guys!” he said to Ready and Abel, who immediately headed right toward the friendly voice, straining their long leashes to get there. His hand was outstretched. He was pretty casually dressed, maybe a T shirt, a chain hooked to his belt, and jeans, fashionably ripped. Rock star on his day off. I noted, to my alarm, that one of the fashionable rips was directly above his right knee, conveniently located at just the right height for two little puppies, now eagerly on their hind feet, to put their paws. Abie had a tiny sharp dewclaw, and he was on that leg.

I thought, “Please God, don’t let him catch the man’s skin, no blood,” and said, “Careful, he’s got a sharp little claw.’

He looked up from scratching their ears and heads, and his glasses made his eyes huge. The eyes were kind, interested, direct. “What kind of dogs are they?” he asked.

“Well, their mother is an Old English Sheepdog, and their daddy is a Golden Retriever.” I was determined not to gabble, but they liked him, just wagging all over, so I was beaming. “Wow,” he said, or something like that, and then he had to finish cashing out.

We went to get the the big, carob-frosted cookies then, and Steven had gone back to the girl with the puppy, so we were cashing out when the two of them came by again. They were on their way out. “What are they going to be like when they get older?” he asked. I laughed. “Nobody knows. It’s never been done,” which, as far as I knew, was true. “How fabulously cool,” he said. I thought so, too.

His very pretty friend was wrapped in the most lovely cape, holding her puppy protectively in it, under her chin. Our eyes met. “How old is your puppy?” I asked. “Fourteen weeks,” she said in a tiny voice.” “That’s the same as mine! Do you know his birthday?” “No,” she whispered. Okay, leave her alone, she’s shy and no wonder. So, I just smiled, and they left.

There was nobody else in the store, so Pat and I chattered a bit, pretty excited, although she said, “Oh, he comes in here all the time.” I was so pleased Steven had liked my puppies and was so interested. I was also quite pleased that I had not fallen apart. I can’t be sure I would have held it together had it been Paul McCartney. (Sorry, Steven.) But I suppose I would have resorted to saying how I’d always liked his Sheepdog Martha.

Of course, we raced home and I called my whole family. They were in fact very impressed and wanted every detail. Even my mother, who was 75 at the time, and had been watching “American Idol” got pretty wild. My mother was like a kid! My brother, who is an excellent guitarist, loves to hear this story over and over, and I love telling it.

When I remember this event, I see the kind eyes, and feel great relief that Abel did not draw Steven Tyler’s blood with that dew claw.