We all have a place in the scheme of things. Ask Rocky. He knows.
When I was the Executive Director for an animal welfare organization on Whidbey Island in Washington I came in contact with many dogs. Rocky was found hanging out in the middle of a street, basking in the sun, oblivious to the danger to him by passing cars. Knowing my propensity for basset hounds, a love I developed through association with my husband, the shelter manager, Shari Bibich, called me about Rocky. I immediately visited his kennel, sitting on the floor by the boy, who was dusty, dirty and, well, not much interested in me. His owner claimed him and that was that.
Until the call came. Rocky, who was a product of a divorce, was staying with the Mom who wasn’t sure she liked dogs. She decided it was better that Rocky got a home with a dog “lover”, at which point she identified me. So there it happened. I met her in the Walmart parking lot, and claimed Rocky. She told me that she thought it best and that more and more she knew Rocky wanted to be inside. I guess up until me his life was pretty much outside.
So now Rocky hangs out with us. He has made his place in the family. He loves his head scratched. For the most part he sleeps indoors. He has a loud bellow, and his fellow dogs take note and sometimes cower to the sound. He lets out a pathetic whine when he chases Merlin. Of course, he doesn’t do rain, like Jim doesn’t do rain. In fact, Rocky hates it. Has to be dragged outside by leash for his daily business. But when the sun comes out, he readily and happily makes his place in Merlin’s Garden, among the flowers, beneath the trees. I find the craters he digs in a few places. Oh, well. I let him. I figure he’s earned his spot in the sun.
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