Wally

Wally

My rescue dog was just over a year old when I found him.  He hadn’t been living in the best of circumstances, I was his third owner and he wasn’t happy about another change.  As I drove him to his new home he leaned against the passenger door and glared at me the entire way.  Yes, dogs can glare… or at least he can.  He walked into my house, stared me down further, lifted his leg extra high and made his mark on the living room rug.  I changed his name, grabbed my book, “Good Dogs, Bad Habits”, took a deep breath and settled in.

He was a bit insecure for the first year.  He stuck to me like glue.  Then I noticed that when I told him my next plan he’d go off and do his own thing.  “I’m running to the store and will be right back”.  Upon my return I’d say,  “see I told you I’d be back”.  With time he loosened up.  I’ve never stopped talking to him and swear he understands every word.

I think he was put on this earth to make me laugh.  When I was barefoot in the kitchen, he’d run by, nip at my big toe and keep running.  He’d regularly run into the back yard, tuck his head and do a somersault, land on his back and roll around with the biggest smile on his face. He’s buried more underwear and socks (I have no idea how he finds them) in the backyard.  Even those belonging to guests.  My gardener has been kind enough to turn his head through the years.  There are numerous funny stories.  He’s now 14 and just as great as can be.  He needs a massage or two to keep everything loose.  His hearing has diminished so we are down to sign language.  But he’s just the best dog anyone could ask for.

I’ve been extremely lucky to have found him.