Dog Needs Glasses

It started as a goof, and took off.  We put reading glasses on our German Shepherd, Beverly, as Samantha read our book to her.  We posted it on the Follow the Dog Home Facebook page, and things went crazy.  Internally and externally.

Samantha Walsh & Beverly

Jean Walsh & Beverly

Jean liked what Samantha did, duplicated it, then did a switcheroo. Can you see the difference in the two photos?

Next thing we know, glasses end up on Mia, a gorgeous German Shepherd owned by our pal Laura Borden in Pennsylvania.

Mia

Connie Byron sent me the above picture.  Apparently her sweetie, Rosie, saw the focals as a chew toy instead of an eye aid.  That happened to me a few years back with my Golden Retriever, Susie.

I don't know what we've started here, but I'm entertained.  And I'd like to see more.  Send us your spectacle wearing doggie photos.

Cute Dog Pictures

Bailey, Sarasota, FL

What does the headline of each blog entry have to do with what it's about?  Not much, or everything.  One thing we've discovered since we started the Follow the Dog Home Blog along with the book, is that nothing gets attention quite like cute dog pictures.  I could write a heckuva good entry with thrilling content, but if there's no picture, there are no takers.  I get it, and you know what?  I'm a sucker for a cute dog picture as much as anyone else.  That's Bailey above.  I bumped into him at a birthday party in Sarasota.  More on bumping into strange dogs below.

Beverly, Wellesley, MA

We're wrapping up a nice vacation in Florida; and while I was busy frolicking with the kids and the Mrs. in the pool, and trying to fool every largemouth bass in the Sunshine State with plastic worms, I couldn't help but think about how much I miss my dog, Beverly.  I'm sure she's anxiously looking out the window back home in Massachusetts wondering when we're coming home.

While in Naples, Florida I discovered a dog park around the Lely Resort.  There I met plenty of elderly snowbirds who wondered who shows up at a dog park sans dog?  I do.  They may have found it odd, but their dogs didn't.

Hank, hankering for more catch & fetch

Hank the Goldendoodle wore himself and my arm out with a sloppy game of fetch.  Slipperiest tennis ball I've ever touched.  Awesome dog.

Sheba, Great Dane

Sheba, the four-year-old 170-pound Great Dane above is the biggest female dog I've ever seen.  In true Great Dane fashion, she did everything well... big.  She gave me loving kisses that, because of the drool, stayed longer than the affection.  She was such a sweetie.

And then there was Mays, as in Willie Mays.  Man did he like to play.  He was cruising at full speed along with a Whippet named Ollie when, CRASH!  They slammed into me like two linebackers on a blitz.  It was really something, but none of us was worse for wear, although I was wearing dirt and gobs of more doggy saliva after that too.  But that's the life of a dog park party crasher, and it's a good life, when your best dog is home alone.

Mays, Yellow Lab

When Dogs Play Favorites

I made a simple post on our Facebook page this morning, and the response was overwhelming.  It was a picture of my daughter, Amanda, and Beverly between pillows.  The picture says a lot about their close relationship, and that picture is a snapshot of a broader canvas.  Do dogs play favorites?  I don't think there's any doubt about it.

I'm not even going to try back it up with science, but I know what I see, and I remember what I've read.  The original mission of dogs was to serve.  Specific breeds had specific attributes that made them good for whatever the job called for.  But things evolved, and sometimes reversed themselves.  It's a huge generalization, but most dogs I know are now servees, not servers.  And if a dog needs/wants something, it goes to who services them best.

Our previous German Shepherd, Tiffany, was getting up there in years when we had children.  Tiffany had achy bones.  She much preferred the attention that Samantha payed from a safe distance than say an Amanda in your face specialty.

Samantha reading to Tiffany, 2007

 

Amanda up close and personal with Beverly, 2012

Beverly is all about facials.  She'll give and take one from anyone, but nobody makes her face sparkle as much as Amanda.  

Susie, our Golden Retriever from years ago had a sense of adventure.  My brother Chris was probably the more adventurous sibling.  When the jeep rolled up, Susie hopped in.  It'll pain my dad to read this, but Susie was probably most partial to Chris.

Don't worry Dad, this is for you.  Danielle, our Cairn Terrier was his dog.  She spent plenty of time with us kids, but when Dad came home from work, Danielle was all his.  I don't know what it was, I just think Danielle really valued authority, and saw him as the Alpha dog.

My brother Michael Walsh with Danielle, 1979

If it's playtime, Beverly looks to me.  And why not?  I love to play, and she always gives me a break  from the honey do list.

Beverly, all ready to go!

And when Beverly is not feeling well, she goes to Jean.  Don't we all?  She doesn't get chicken soup out of it like the rest of us, but Beverly gets what she needs, when she needs it most--a mother's gentle hands and compassion.

Jean with Beverly, 2012

Who does your dog play favorites with, and why?

Who's the Rescue Here?

When we wrote Follow the Dog Home, I told everyone that they would see themselves and their stories in ours.  Here's just one example of that.

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

Bob's story reminds me of another Bob--my dad.  Like my neighbor, Dad went through a tough stretch after losing what he thought was going to be his last dog.  It's hard for us to imagine why Dad was so sad about losing Daisy the Dalmatian, because that dog was almost impossible to love.

Crazy Daisy

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 Annie

Happy Bob Walsh

 I'm wondering, have you lost a dog, then said "That's it, I'm done," only to change your mind later?