Several months ago my neighbor, Bob, lost his beloved Bulldog named, Shakespeare. Shakespeare was as cool as his name. He'd ride with Bob to the town dump every morning. A Bulldog riding shotgun in a white pickup truck? He really was a junkyard dog. It was a crushing loss when Shakespeare passed away, and Bob wasn't really sure he could go through the pain of losing another dog--which always happens somewhere down the road. Eventually the loneliness wore him down. A couple of days ago I saw Bob walking a new dog, a rescue named, Marlo. Bob and Marlo looked so happy together.
|Bob and Marlo|
If you touched Daisy, she went bonkers. In the book, my brother Mike describe it as something close to living with a wild animal, not a pet. Somehow Dad loved this troubled dog and took her loss very hard. He admits he was in a funk for months after her death. It got bad enough that his wife, Mary, told him "Go get yourself a dog."
He did, a Corgi named Annie. She rescued my dad, and he's been smiling ever since.
|Happy Bob Walsh|