Do you remember how you felt about your first dog?

My first dog was Taffy, a beautiful pure-bred golden retriever that my family adopted as an 8-week-old pup when I was five.

Funny…the things you remember.

I have a scar on my knee from trying to take a walk with Taffy, when she wound around my legs with her leash and tripped me up. I went home crying and found my mom in the kitchen, crying for a very different reason…she had just found out that her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

Taffy was a part of my childhood…she was always there. My little brother and I spent many hours jammed in the back of the Ford Country Squire station wagon with Taffy, plus tons of luggage, on the way to Lake Winnepausakee in New Hampshire for wonderful vacations.

Taffy died the very week I went to college. It was traumatic. Probably exaggerated by all of the changes I was dealing with…but still, it felt like I had been sucker punched.

Sometimes, I think that’s why I like the puppy side of raising Guide Dogs for the Blind…I stay on the young and hopeful side of having a dog. There’s a volunteer at Guide Dogs who fosters old or sick dogs, on their way out. I have a huge admiration for her. She loves each and every one of them.

Anyway…less I digress…

The link below is a well-written, terrific, three-hanky article about a man who loves his dog. Not at all schmaltzy! Kind of long but worth your time. Thanks to BC for sending it to me.

One Final Toss for the Dooze

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