TOBY'S TEARS

My daughter and her son own a little black and white Chihuahua named Toby.

As the result of Kristy and Noah having traveled out of state recently, my daughter made the decision to place Toby in a doggie daycare for a week. (In my time nothing like this existed).

This particular canine babysitting service offers some pretty innovative features; group P.E., rest periods, and the transmission of daily photos and videos to the proud owners of the four-footed residents.

Ultimately my daughter and grandson completed their vacation, and returned to retrieve their dear pooch.

As Kristy walked into the doggie daycare, the owner/attendant commented on Toby’s socialization skills. Now this is a dog which spends hours alone in a bathroom during my daughter’s workday, thus, no doubt, she was surprised to understand how well Toby had interacted with the other animals.

As the two footed and four footed duo walked out the gate together, suddenly the residents of the second variety began barking in unison, as if to say, “So soon? Please don’t go. We’re gonna miss you!”

And oddly enough, Toby’s eyes began to well up with tears, and several slipped down his doggie cheeks, as if to respond, 

“Golly, gee whiz, I had so much fun, and I’d love to hang with you guys awhile longer. But I guess I gotta go.”

While I am a therapist of the human, (rather than the canine) kind, and can make no claim to dog whisperer fame, and though this little pooch’s environs are once again limited to two people and a house, I like to think that, at least in his dreams, Toby will, again and again, be afforded the opportunity to romp and play with his fury, four-footed companions.



By William McDonald, PhD.  Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary," Vol. 32. Copyright pending
 

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