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A quote: “How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?” ~~ Dr. Seuss
I’ll start with a story …
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Look at him! He’s grown into a fine, young man. A timid little boy, he was afraid of the dark, of thunderstorms, too. I helped him through it all.
Then there was the incident with the middle school bully.
Oh, yes. I can’t help feeling a bit proud as he comes and slips his arms around me. Such familiar, warm arms … Are those tears on his face?
I lick those tears as he keeps telling me I’m a good boy.
Hope he knows, no matter how long it takes, I’ll be waiting …
Yes, I’ve been a good b…
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.
Cameron says: My nephew was in bad shape. I hate to say it but my sister and her boyfriend were absolutely horrid to that kid and it showed. I feared that it would be years before he came around.
Copper saw a kindred spirit in him. The boy was terrified of him at first and Copper was shocked that someone could be scared of him. But he never gave up trying.
Then one day I saw them in the field and I knew that things were finally getting better. I quietly gave Copper steak that night before my wife could see it.
I still remember when Mom and Dad brought Buddy home. He was just a half-grown pup — you could see it in his huge feet — but he was already bigger than a lot of the dogs on the block. And the minute he got out of the car, he came running right up to me, wagging his tail and jumping to say hi with big sloppy doggy kisses.
Only later did I realize that yes, my folks knew I was being bullied unmercifully. But they couldn’t figure out any way to take action without just driving it underground, making the bullies sneakier instead of getting them to stop. So they decided that getting a big dog — and making me a part of his obedience training — might turn things around.
Buddy was a great judge of character, and he could tell the difference between real overtures of friendship and “smyler with the knyfe” games, even when I couldn’t. It was amazing how many of the bullies got really polite with me after a few times of seeing me walking Buddy down the street in perfect position.
But there’s a downside to big dogs — they don’t live as long as their smaller cousins. By the time I was in high school, Buddy was definitely slowing down. His joints were getting arthritic, and he was a lot less enthusiastic about going out for walks, especially on cold or damp mornings.
I don’t know whether it was better or worse that I was already moved away when the final crisis came. Sure, Mom called to let me know Dad had taken Buddy to the vet for the last time, and it wasn’t like I could just hop a plane from the oil fields home for “just a dog.” But I still feel like I missed something when I wasn’t there for him that last time.
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