A BOY & HIS DOG. PT. 2

Readers, I felt compelled to provide you the previous entre into the life of a dear young man named Wade; prior to relating one rather important facet of his existence.

For you see, Wade owned a dog; (or perhaps, as the old adage goes, ‘the dog owned him’).

But to begin at the beginning.

I continue my story with an account by my sister-in-law, Sue, Wade’s mother.

“The year was 1982, and I was enjoying my daily walk in the fair City of Bartow, and this ‘Heinz-57’ style pooch began following me, and was at my heels all the way back to my vehicle; which I’d parked at the post office. 

I had attempted to discourage her from following me, but as she and I were forced to cross a couple of major roads, I naturally kept her close to protect her from traffic. She and I must have presented an unlikely duo, as we came to a halt next to my car door.”

We will rejoin Sue momentarily, but it occurs to me that as she came to a halt next to her automobile my sister-in-law, (much like ‘Mrs. Faixfax’ in the Victorian novel, “Jane Eyre”) might have mused, 

“What to do? What to do?”

“I had a decision to make, and as it seemed to me that this non-descript pooch had gone to a great deal of effort to team up with me and walk as far as she did, and since I had a deserving son at home, who could not help but love and cherish her, with only the slightest hesitation I grabbed the unlikely canine around the waist, and shoved her into the passenger seat.”

(and)

“Of course, I observed the hairy critter as I drove the eight or ten minutes home. The dog was less than a year old, black and a proverbial ‘ball of fur.’ When I arrived home I dropped the somewhat bedraggled pooch into the bed with my husband, Clarence, and she began licking him like he was an old friend. When my son, Wade, arrived home from school, she jumped up into his lap, as he sat in his wheelchair, and gave him much the same treatment as she had my husband.”

(and)

“Given the physical characteristics of our newly adopted dog, you might imagine how easy it was to come up with a name.

We called her,

…Fluffy!”

(to be continued)

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 47. Copyright pending

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