I just got back from walking my dog (or was he walking me?) Bentley. I admit it; I’m a dog person. You see, there are “cat people” and wonderful people—dog people!
There’s an old joke—you feed a cat, you care for a cat, you love your cat—the cat thinks it’s God. You feed a dog, you care for a dog, you love your dog—your dog thinks you’re God.
I grew up having dogs. The first dog we had was a beagle. My mother named him “Cinco”—the Spanish word for five—because she had five kids. Cinco lived to old age and then we had a series of dogs. We had the Siberian Husky, the German Shepherd, and the Fox Terrier. They didn’t last long. Somehow my mother became an “evil” person—yes, a cat person.
We fast forward to married life. My beloved wife of over 31 years never had a dog, never wanted a dog, and for many years informed me and our two sons that we would never have a dog.
Then, while we were living in Wheaton, IL, we came home from our son’s Middle School basketball game to find our house was robbed. The police officer said, much to my delight, “You know, if you had a dog, this probably wouldn’t have happened.”
Nanci said, let’s get a dog—but two conditions—it has to be a small dog and a dog that doesn’t shed.
I researched this vigorously. We considered all kinds of little hypoallergenic dogs and came up with the Cockapoo. We found Waldo and gave him a home for almost fourteen years. He was a great dog. It was really hard on all of us when we had to send him where all dogs go—to heaven of course!
By now, our nest was empty. I wanted another dog. “Absolutely not,” she said, “Waldo was the perfect dog and now we’re free to travel without finding a dog-sitter.”
Oh, I think I mentioned that I just got back from walking Bentley. So, those of you who are still with me reading might safely assume that we did get another dog. Bentley is a Cockapoo as well. Bentley, like his owner and his owner’s two sons is afflicted with ADHD. Not my diagnosis—the dog whisperer my wife insisted we engage.
But as I write this now—he is sitting at my feet after that four-mile walk—relatively calm. He seems to have a love for socks, slippers, and shoes. He jumps, walks on his hind feet, and likes to sleep right next to me. But most importantly, like most dogs, he has unconditional love. He reminds me of Someone else much greater, much more important to me, who loves unconditionally.
There’s an old joke—you feed a cat, you care for a cat, you love your cat—the cat thinks it’s God. You feed a dog, you care for a dog, you love your dog—your dog thinks you’re God.
I grew up having dogs. The first dog we had was a beagle. My mother named him “Cinco”—the Spanish word for five—because she had five kids. Cinco lived to old age and then we had a series of dogs. We had the Siberian Husky, the German Shepherd, and the Fox Terrier. They didn’t last long. Somehow my mother became an “evil” person—yes, a cat person.
We fast forward to married life. My beloved wife of over 31 years never had a dog, never wanted a dog, and for many years informed me and our two sons that we would never have a dog.
Then, while we were living in Wheaton, IL, we came home from our son’s Middle School basketball game to find our house was robbed. The police officer said, much to my delight, “You know, if you had a dog, this probably wouldn’t have happened.”
Nanci said, let’s get a dog—but two conditions—it has to be a small dog and a dog that doesn’t shed.
I researched this vigorously. We considered all kinds of little hypoallergenic dogs and came up with the Cockapoo. We found Waldo and gave him a home for almost fourteen years. He was a great dog. It was really hard on all of us when we had to send him where all dogs go—to heaven of course!
By now, our nest was empty. I wanted another dog. “Absolutely not,” she said, “Waldo was the perfect dog and now we’re free to travel without finding a dog-sitter.”
Oh, I think I mentioned that I just got back from walking Bentley. So, those of you who are still with me reading might safely assume that we did get another dog. Bentley is a Cockapoo as well. Bentley, like his owner and his owner’s two sons is afflicted with ADHD. Not my diagnosis—the dog whisperer my wife insisted we engage.
But as I write this now—he is sitting at my feet after that four-mile walk—relatively calm. He seems to have a love for socks, slippers, and shoes. He jumps, walks on his hind feet, and likes to sleep right next to me. But most importantly, like most dogs, he has unconditional love. He reminds me of Someone else much greater, much more important to me, who loves unconditionally.
 Waldo |  Bentley |
RSS Feed