Monday, November 23, 2015


Guest Writer

Boy came in to my life just when I needed him most.  I’d lost my little Sophie, a tiny
white poodle I’d named after Sophie Tucker because her howl reminded me very much of

the former legendary star.

But she was a fragile little pup as a result of a sad, troubling life where she’d been used to produce puppies, and then discarded when she was no longer fruitful.

Boy, on the other hand is a sturdy dog, also a poodle, but not the little kind. What Boy
is instead, is the nicest, friendliest dog you will ever meet. 

More importantly, he will love you if you give him half a chance because Boy loves the world. Unless of course, the world includes a dog that thinks it might be more Alpha than Boy himself.

Lest you think I exaggerate his wonderfulness, let me tell you he has a gift.  He makes
everyone who comes to visit us feel that Boy remembers him/her with special
even if he hasn’t.  Boy races down the hall to greet all comers. Kisses and hugs if encouraged---but insane amounts of tail wagging if preferred.

And the best part is, he seems to know in advance which kind of greeting each visitor prefers.

Admittedly, my motive for choosing Boy wasn’t altruistic. I really needed a reason to walk. I’ve never been athletic.  My idea of a lovely trip to the ski resorts is to stay in my room till everyone gets over the need for slalom downhill skiing. I’ve never understood the need to race down a snow covered mountain. However, I am really big on the après ski bar at the bottom of the hill.

But I am aging…irrefutably (at least it's not in dog years, then I'd be 450 and he'd be 70). And doctors keep insisting I must at least walk a half mile a day. Not going to happen without a really good reason.

Enter Boy.

He’s a dog.  He needs to be walked. Not just for the exercise but to give him a chance to behave properly by “doing his business” outdoors instead of in the house. Anyway, it was that mundane need that gave me the opportunity to meet, know and love Boy.

He was a rescue only in the sense that he needed to find a new human. The lady with whom he shared a home had died and the family couldn’t keep him because they already had a German Shepard that looked upon Boy as the night’s dinner.

A mutual friend told me about Boy, and Boy about me and a meeting was arranged. A happy/sad occasion. The lady who had to give Boy to me was so sad. 
She’d loved him the entire time he’d lived with her mother---and how could she not.
Boy was happy but melancholy because he loved her too, although I apparently looked  promising because he settled in quickly.
It’s been four years since that day and every one of them has been nicer because Boy is in it.  He is on my bed when I wake up… if I’m early enough, he’s sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed, but if it’s after seven, he comes up and licks my face until I wake, get up, dress and hit the road.
We do that twice a day. We stop and smell the grass and whatever else dogs enjoy sniffing, and we say hello to lots of nice people who are out walking their own pets.
Boy has filled my home with joy-filled energy.  He’s a great listener. When no one else is around and I sound off on some of my favorite hates… he listens until he’s had enough then he curls up on my lap to calm me down. I pet him and hug him, forgetting all about the rant I was on.
There’s just no other way to say it…my life is better with Boy.  He’s love on four paws…and it just doesn’t get any better than that.     ### Betty Bonaduce

                                                                 Boy #9


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