For the Love of A Puppy

I love my dog. That sweet little fuzzy face, those big brown eyes, the lolling pink tongue… I’m so hooked on him, it’s ridiculous. We got him as a rescue when he was 6 months old. We’d gone from shelter to shelter and each one broke my heart but none were “the one.”

Then … we met Ranger.

 He looked up at us through the bars, his little white butt and tail wagging so hard, we thought he’d take off. The staff let us leash him and take him outside to get acquainted. He ran around the little park in the back, zoomed between our legs then, the piece de resistance, he laid down and bared his belly.

We brought him home that day, almost 6 years ago and haven’t looked back since. He’s sweet and ferocious, adorable and demanding. He’s really smart and passed dog training, though most of it has been forgotten. He knows what “let’s cuddle” means and he knows when I say I’m going to change the bed, he has to jump off. He likes to talk and he snuffles and has the most endearing look on his face when he’s looking up at you. Especially when he wants something.

We live in a sort of rural area. Rural enough that our backyard is home to several kinds of wildlife including rabbits. One day, he went outside to play. When he scratched on the door to be let in, as he’d had hundreds of times before, I opened the door.
And screamed like a banshee then slammed the door shut on him. My sweet, little puppy was holding a dead rabbit in his mouth. The rabbit was big, it hung almost to the ground around his mouth. My mom was the heroine of the piece. She grabbed a Milkbone, opened the door and traded him the bone for the rabbit.
Then, she calmly ran through the garage and tossed it out in the front yard. The strange thing was there was no blood or anything on the rabbit and the next day he was gone. I like to think he was playing possum with Ranger and as soon as he was safe, he up and hopped away.

That day, Ranger gained a middle name – Elmer.

And like my kid, he knows when I use all his names he’s in real trouble and has only one avenue of safety. He runs to grandma!

Yep, I love my dog. He’s pretty special to me.

How about you? Any animals make your life special?
Happy reading,
Jennifer August