And God created a dog

God spelled backwards is dog and that’s what I feel when I’m standing next to a dog . . . God standing next to me. I had a couple dogs in my life before meeting Mr. Wonderful. My first dogs were Hogan and Toby; both English Springer Spaniels and I loved them and they loved me. They protected me, they were always at my side. They gave me kisses, woke me up in the middle of the night, sniffed crotches and lifted my spirts with a lick.

Several years after we were married, we adopted a yellow Labrador retriever and we named him Bach. A year later we adopted a yellow Lab rescue and we named her Bailey. We had them for 13 years and we loved those dogs so much and they loved us back and we will forever miss them. We’ve been blessed to have other wonderful dogs in our lives through human friends. Wrigley (a Westie) and Toby (a Labradoodle) who moved on to the Rainbow Bridge about a year ago. We are currently connected with Luca (a Labradoodle) and Ranger (a Goldendoodle). We love these dogs and they love us back.

I included a picture of Ranger in this post. He’s transitioning from the bat shit crazy puppy stage to the most wonderful loving boy. The first 2 or 3 years of a large breed dog are so hard and expensive (they eat everything). Once they pass that puppy stage, God gives you a loyal dog that can see any crack in your heart and fills the void.

Although I love all the dogs in my life, past and present . . . I was most connected with my boy Bach. The following is my remake of a dog poem written by the legendary actor Jimmy Stewart that best describes my relationship with my special guy on loan to me from God:

  • He never came to me when I would call
  • Unless I had a treat,
  • Or he felt like it.
  • But mostly he didn’t come at all.
  • When he was young
  • He never learned to heel
  • Or sit or stay,
  • He did things his way
  • Discipline was not his bag
  • But when you were with him things sure didn’t drag
  • And most nights he’d climb upon our bed
  • And lie between us,
  • And I’d pat his head.
  • And there were nights when I’d feel this stare
  • And I’d wake up and he’d be sitting there
  • And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
  • And sometimes I’d feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why.
  • And now he’s gone.
  • And there are nights when I think I feel him
  • Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
  • And I pat his head.
  • And there are nights when I think I feel that stare
  • And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
  • But he’s not there.



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