We had a visitor this week.
Haley’s presence may be the precursor for an addition to the family. She’s a mid-size dog, quiet and well-behaved, belonging to wife Beverly’s brother, Monty. He was gone for a few days, which had us dog-sitting.
I had a black cocker spaniel when I was young, a one-boy dog who got in Dutch just about every time anyone came around. I never considered him mean, but he took his role as my protector a tad too seriously.
Blackie — named for the obvious — disappeared one night, must have pulled through his collar attached to a chain, my parents explained. Many years later I learned he was banished to a farmer friend’s to keep my parents from having to deal with distraught victims.
Several years ago I acquired a second dog by default — the fault being the previous owner didn’t want her. Rascal, as I called her, eventually joined my son’s family, and became a companion to his bird dog and much smaller house dog, with the unlikely name of Maverick.
Recently I’ve given thought to a third dog.
I think I’d like a small white one, similar to Maverick. One who’d like to go for rides, scamper about the yard and be very good about letting me know when it was time for a quick sortie outdoors.
Fine, says Beverly, just as soon as I’m willing to be responsible — although I’m sure she’d come around to taking her turns with nature breaks.
At the chamber’s Business EXPO, the Allen County Animal Rescue Facility had a couple of intriguing canines, one small like I think I want, but he (or she) wasn’t too friendly — doesn’t like men, I was told, apparently from previous mistreatment.
I suppose the right one eventually will come along.
Awaiting the right dog
