Dog – Straight From the Heart

The toughest part about walking is stopping what I’m doing and pushing myself out the door. But once my feet hit the driveway, I’m ready to dive into the adventures of the great outdoors.

My walks consist of pondering, talking to God, and setting my spirit free. The dishes can scream their dirty little heads off, but I can’t hear them. I don’t even know them. This is my time. My walk. And I’m not stopping till my legs fall off.

My favorite walks are on wooded trails, but since there are none close by, I walk around the neighborhood, with its wide-open areas and rolling hills, serving as pleasant reminders of the pasture it was.

One day last summer, I turned down a road and was met with a German Shepherd. He was a puppy. A big puppy, on the brink of becoming a full-grown, mean-looking beast, so I kept an eye on him as I continued walking.

I never run from a dog. Ever! I stand and face the bully, my walking sticks loaded for battle. As I continued walking, he continued barking and running around across the road. Then, like a curious cat, he ran to me and sniffed my hand. Okay. Sniffing is good. He’s not growling and flashing his teeth; he just wants to play. I hope.

Suddenly, he ran around me and jumped on my back, nearly knocking me to my knees. Frantically, I poked him in the ribs with my walking sticks, but like a stubborn bull, he wouldn’t budge.

Now I’m scared. I’m going to fall and break every bone in my body, and this beast is going to eat me alive! This is getting serious now. He’s not the playful puppy I thought he was, and I’m not the girlfriend he thought I was. Somebody is going to lose this battle, and it won’t be me!

Finally, two guys ran to my rescue, neither of whom owned the dog, but they knew who did, and the only family member that was home was parked in the middle of my back!

After much tugging and pulling, both guys managed to set me free without any bloodshed or broken bones. I continued my walk in one piece and decided to never walk down that street again!

It was my husband’s birthday. Rascal, our beloved pet, died a few weeks before, and hubby was having a hard time getting over the loss. I didn’t want another dog to fall in love with; saying goodbye is just too hard. But seeing my husband moping around the house was even worse.

The dog pound is depressing, but here we are, eyes wet with tears, looking for the right dog to take home.

Rascal was special. We didn’t choose him, he chose us. He was the puppy next door; a beautiful Australian Shepherd mix, with tiger stripes and a silky white chest. Before we knew it, he was sleeping on our front porch, and then, living in our house. The grandkids loved him and he loved them. The kids at Pet Smart loved wrapping their arms around his furry neck. He even allowed grownups to pet him. But, on his own turf? Not a chance. He wouldn’t even let them in the house. PERIOD! But children were always safe. He was their dad, their best friend, their best-ever playmate. Always. Any time, any day or night.

After three times around the kennel, we were feeling hopeless about finding the perfect dog. There was one, though; a hound mix. That skinny, brown, short-haired dog with long legs and floppy ears. I didn’t want a hound. Buck didn’t care what kind of dog it was, he just wanted a dog. So, a hound dog is what we got.

She is the strangest dog we’ve ever had. After eight years, she’s still jumpy, as hardheaded as a bull, and as stubborn as a mule. She licks everything, barks at everything, and thinks all babies are hers by pushing their moms away.

She is definitely my husband’s dog. She sleeps with him and wakes him up whenever he stops breathing or has one of his recurring nightmares. She’s never been trained to do that, she just does it. She is an amazing dog. We fell in love with her and her quirky personality. That’s what makes her Bella!

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