Vito Soprano

"It's not personal, it's business."

-Don Lucchesii to Michael Corleone, Godfather III

We arrived at the dog breeder’s, but she wasn’t around. A wood sign sat at the bottom of her front door, “At the Barn.” A couple of minutes later, she drove up in her SUV.

“Sorry I’m late, she said. “I just castrated a sheep.”

“Sure,” I said, like I’d heard that excuse a million times.

“It was our high school intern’s first time, and she slipped a little,” said Judith. “I had some clean-up.”

Judith has won multiple Westminster Dog Show best-in-breed awards and was three-time Breeder of the Year. She also raises farm animals. She was serious. “Is your intern going into animal husbandry, like you?” I asked, trying to get with the program.

“Oh she’s too smart for that,” said Judith. “She has a higher calling.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Medicine.”

I gulped.

“You know,” said Judith. “A people doctor.”

Our friends Kathy and Natalie needed a puppy fix, so they joined Christina and I on our 45-minute voyage to get Vito. Their 13-year-old Husky, Kiki, is an alumnus of Karnovanda Kennel. We followed Judith into her basement, puppy heaven.

A parcel of pups ran and tumbled in front of our feet. Kathy and Natalie scooped them up. Meanwhile, Judith and I went over discharge instructions. She said to give Vito cereal, but I noticed hunks of frozen meat on the kitchen counter. As Judith got chattier, political correctness blew out the door. Cereal was okay, she said, but raw meat was way better. Go to Kroger after 8 p.m. when they marked down the ground chuck, she instructed me, and buy pounds of it.

“My dogs eat good,” she said. “Yours will too.”

From there, the discussion once again turned to animal gonads.

“Neuter him,” she ordered. “There are too many unwanted puppies in the world.”

“I will be responsible,” I promised.

“Give him to me for a minute. I forgot something.” I handed her Vito. “I have to check if his testicles came down.”

She probed Vito’s privates. His eyes popped when she hit the jackpot.

“Yep,” she said. “They’re down. Tell your vet I found ‘em.”

I had an overwhelming urge to get Vito home fast. But at the exact moment I was to bid adieu, my good friend Kathy decided to get all class reunion-like with Judith. Out came the photos of her dog Kiki. She and Judith reminisced like a couple of grandmothers on a cruise ship. Judith really enjoyed sharing stories about Kiki’s royal bloodline.

“Yea,” said Judith in reference to Kiki’s dam. “That Deliliah, she was some bitch.”

I had a headache on the car ride home. I don’t know if it was because of the heavy traffic or whether it was because Vito squealed in the highest register I have ever heard. Some sopranos are born, others made.