Today
is a good day.
There’s always something to be grateful for but this morning something extra special transpired.
The most satisfying compliment I receive about Atticus is when people talk about his sense of self. He knows who he is and what he wants. There is rarely any place he is uncomfortable. He could be on stage in front of more than 300 people as he will be tonight, walking leashless through strange cities during our book tour, or caught in a blizzard during a 23-mile trek across the Bonds. It doesn’t matter. So long as we’re together he is fine.
Atticus’s sense of self is the reason we were able to adopt Will, a fifteen year old Miniature Schnauzer with serious health issues this week. People are funny and bring their own scars to their observations. Some predicted Atticus would be jealous or angry or resentful. Others hoped that he and Will would become fast friends. I know Atticus well enough to know neither would be true. He wouldn’t become friends with Will, and neither would he shun him. He’d simply let him be and allow him to work out whatever he needs to work out. Atticus has done just that. He’s respectful, patient, even gentle. Never does he approach him and if Will approaches him, Atticus simply allows him to sniff away and then move on.
I believe it’s all because of his sense of self.
When we picked up Will on Sunday in Connecticut I saw a dog on the opposite end of the spectrum. I was literally stunned by his poor condition. His hips were fragile and weak, his eyes ineffective, his ears equally so. On top of that he was edgy, frightened, insecure, and at times aggressive. He didn’t want to be picked up and one time when I was helping him out his car he latched hold of my thumb and took a good bite. At the moment blood was trickling out of my thumb between his clenched teeth I didn’t pull back, I didn’t react at all other than to use my other hand to gently pat his head and tell him it was okay.
I didn’t blame Will for being fearful and protecting himself. Hell, I would have been the same way. I don’t know much about his past or how he was treated. Form what I hear he lived with the same family for fifteen years and when the fellow he lived with grew too old to take care of himself or Will, the little dog was dropped off at a shelter in New Jersey.
I can’t even blame the gentleman who did this for I don’t know his state of mind and or even if he understood it was a kill shelter. Luckily, the shelter contacted the New Jersey Schnauzer Rescue Network and they jumped in to save what many considered an unadoptable dog. Through their efforts he was placed in a foster home. His picture was placed on their website and one of our Facebook friends posted the link to William on our Following Atticus page praying someone would give him a home.
There are many reasons why I decided to adopt Will – too many to go into here – but suffice it to say I wanted him to have the opportunity to live out his life in dignity. I knew he would most likely be frail and by the photo I could tell he had cataracts. I also knew that Atticus would react in an understanding manner. He would simply handle it as Atticus handles everything – by being himself – and this would help Will do just that.
By the time Will was sinking his teeth into my hand he had been delivered from the shelter to the foster home to various members of the NJSRN for transport. He’d been passed off, then saved, then handed over like a baton. All this was wonderful for it saved his life, but I’m sure Will didn’t see it this way. I know I wouldn’t if it was me. I’d be confused and frightened. I feel betrayed and abandoned. I’d feel like my life was stolen from me.
There have been challenges thus far. Will is frail and needs to go to the bathroom quite often. If I’m not paying attention he goes on the floor but we’ve come to an understanding about that and I know when to get him outside and how often. He doesn’t do well on the stairs and we live on the second floor and each step can be slick to his weakened back legs, but he doesn’t like being picked up. So during the first day I just spent a lot of time sitting on the floor with Will while leaning back against the couch. Atticus sat on the couch with his head resting on my shoulder as I worked my hands tenderly over Will.
On the car ride back from Connecticut I noticed his ears perked up with certain kinds of music and I wondered what kind of memories they held for him. Music is often playing in our home but now there’s more classical than there was before and some opera with female voices, which he seems to like. Not knowing how bad his hearing is, only that he rarely responds to my voice, I thought of Beethoven, who was deaf when he composed his Ninth Symphony and legend has it he cut the legs off of his piano and put his ear to the floor so he could feel the vibration. I placed a small speaker attached to my iPhone on the floor near where Will likes to sleep and I hope he can feel the vibrations. He seems to like it.
Within twenty-four hours Will let me pick him up. Within 72 hours he understood he needs to be carried up the stairs and he now stops and puts his front paws on the first step and I pass my hand under his nose to let him know it’s me and I softly cradle his brittle body. He grunts out of joint pain now and no longer growls. And when we get upstairs and I put him down he becomes playful. He dances around like a little drunken leprechaun, and when he comes running towards me he attempts to stand on his hind legs and push me with his front paws (think of the way Elaine Benes used to shove Jerry on Seinfeld) but his hips are so weak they give out and he topples over (hence the drunken leprechaun). That doesn’t stop him from wanting to play, however. But he simply doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up.
Occasionally he’ll find himself near the coffee table and when he wants my attention he’ll pull himself up and put his weight on his front legs and stare at me as if he has something to say.
As for walks, it’s an advantage to have Atticus off leash so he can go at his pace while Will and I go at his. He’s grown used to his harness and seems to find comfort in the connection it gives us. On Wednesday we took our time walking in the woods along an earthen path. Every now and again Atticus would return to make sure we were okay – and we were. We were simply going at Will’s pace. When all was said and done I realized we’d actually walked a mile. I wondered how tired he would be, or how sore. But when we returned home and I carried him up the stairs there was that same drunken leprechaun charging at me with a wide open mouth, but no longer to bite as he did that first day, but to play.
Some have noted in his pictures that Will now looks like a puppy and he does. He plays like one, too. The only difference is that after fifteen minutes of playing he needs to sleep for a few hours. He finds one of the dog beds I have around our home or plops down on the carpet and when he’s asleep I cover his old, bony body with a blanket to keep him warm.
Atticus and I lead a pretty boring life. We love our privacy, music often plays in the house, comforting scents drift from the crockpot, and candles flicker. I sit and read and Atticus sits next to me. And now Will often sleeps on my feet. When we’re outside, it’s a different story, of course. Atticus and I take full advantage of Will’s numerous naps to get plenty of exercise at a faster pace.
And through it all I cannot believe it’s only been five days. So much has transpired. So much has transformed.
This morning we went to Christine O’Connell’s office for Will’s first vet visit. I wasn’t sure how he would handle it since he’s sore in numerous places and many dogs do not like going to the vets. But a most wonderful thing happened. Will walked to the door with me, got on the scale when I showed him where it was, then walked calmly to the front desk with me. When another dog came in he acknowledged him and they sniffed each other in a friendly fashion.
Christine greeted him on the floor and when I lifted him up to the table he was kind and gentle and let them pull and prod him in places that couldn’t have felt good. His teeth are rotten and he badly needs a cleaning, his ears are extremely sensitive and need a deep cleaning as well, his hips – his poor hips are weak and under-exercised. And yet throughout it all there stood Will, his blurry eyes looking right into mine as I cradled him.
When we left the office he was calm and confident as we walked to the car together and when I looked down at him I had to smile at him for I saw something in him I’d not seen that first day. It was a calm yet warm sense of self – a sense of belonging and of being loved.
He has come a long way in the past ten days: pulled from his home, placed in a kill shelter, and feeling frightened to feeling right at home – to feeling like there is no place he shouldn’t be at ease.
I believe the greatest gift we can give another is the ability to be themselves. It’s amazing what can happen when you allow another to simply be who they are.
I have no illusions about Will. Never have. I understand he’s come to live out his days with us and that no matter how much time is left it will break my heart to see him go. But days like this…well, I think this is what heaven is like – to give the gift of life and dignity.
Five days ago we took in a frightened, angry, and lost soul. Today we walked out of Christine O’Connell’s office as friends.
As I write this I have a tears of happiness welling up in my eyes for I have one friend who will never be abandoned with his head resting against my hip, and another who was lost and has now been found with his head on my feet.
There’s always something to be grateful for but this morning something extra special transpired.
The most satisfying compliment I receive about Atticus is when people talk about his sense of self. He knows who he is and what he wants. There is rarely any place he is uncomfortable. He could be on stage in front of more than 300 people as he will be tonight, walking leashless through strange cities during our book tour, or caught in a blizzard during a 23-mile trek across the Bonds. It doesn’t matter. So long as we’re together he is fine.
Atticus’s sense of self is the reason we were able to adopt Will, a fifteen year old Miniature Schnauzer with serious health issues this week. People are funny and bring their own scars to their observations. Some predicted Atticus would be jealous or angry or resentful. Others hoped that he and Will would become fast friends. I know Atticus well enough to know neither would be true. He wouldn’t become friends with Will, and neither would he shun him. He’d simply let him be and allow him to work out whatever he needs to work out. Atticus has done just that. He’s respectful, patient, even gentle. Never does he approach him and if Will approaches him, Atticus simply allows him to sniff away and then move on.
I believe it’s all because of his sense of self.
When we picked up Will on Sunday in Connecticut I saw a dog on the opposite end of the spectrum. I was literally stunned by his poor condition. His hips were fragile and weak, his eyes ineffective, his ears equally so. On top of that he was edgy, frightened, insecure, and at times aggressive. He didn’t want to be picked up and one time when I was helping him out his car he latched hold of my thumb and took a good bite. At the moment blood was trickling out of my thumb between his clenched teeth I didn’t pull back, I didn’t react at all other than to use my other hand to gently pat his head and tell him it was okay.
I didn’t blame Will for being fearful and protecting himself. Hell, I would have been the same way. I don’t know much about his past or how he was treated. Form what I hear he lived with the same family for fifteen years and when the fellow he lived with grew too old to take care of himself or Will, the little dog was dropped off at a shelter in New Jersey.
I can’t even blame the gentleman who did this for I don’t know his state of mind and or even if he understood it was a kill shelter. Luckily, the shelter contacted the New Jersey Schnauzer Rescue Network and they jumped in to save what many considered an unadoptable dog. Through their efforts he was placed in a foster home. His picture was placed on their website and one of our Facebook friends posted the link to William on our Following Atticus page praying someone would give him a home.
There are many reasons why I decided to adopt Will – too many to go into here – but suffice it to say I wanted him to have the opportunity to live out his life in dignity. I knew he would most likely be frail and by the photo I could tell he had cataracts. I also knew that Atticus would react in an understanding manner. He would simply handle it as Atticus handles everything – by being himself – and this would help Will do just that.
By the time Will was sinking his teeth into my hand he had been delivered from the shelter to the foster home to various members of the NJSRN for transport. He’d been passed off, then saved, then handed over like a baton. All this was wonderful for it saved his life, but I’m sure Will didn’t see it this way. I know I wouldn’t if it was me. I’d be confused and frightened. I feel betrayed and abandoned. I’d feel like my life was stolen from me.
There have been challenges thus far. Will is frail and needs to go to the bathroom quite often. If I’m not paying attention he goes on the floor but we’ve come to an understanding about that and I know when to get him outside and how often. He doesn’t do well on the stairs and we live on the second floor and each step can be slick to his weakened back legs, but he doesn’t like being picked up. So during the first day I just spent a lot of time sitting on the floor with Will while leaning back against the couch. Atticus sat on the couch with his head resting on my shoulder as I worked my hands tenderly over Will.
On the car ride back from Connecticut I noticed his ears perked up with certain kinds of music and I wondered what kind of memories they held for him. Music is often playing in our home but now there’s more classical than there was before and some opera with female voices, which he seems to like. Not knowing how bad his hearing is, only that he rarely responds to my voice, I thought of Beethoven, who was deaf when he composed his Ninth Symphony and legend has it he cut the legs off of his piano and put his ear to the floor so he could feel the vibration. I placed a small speaker attached to my iPhone on the floor near where Will likes to sleep and I hope he can feel the vibrations. He seems to like it.
Within twenty-four hours Will let me pick him up. Within 72 hours he understood he needs to be carried up the stairs and he now stops and puts his front paws on the first step and I pass my hand under his nose to let him know it’s me and I softly cradle his brittle body. He grunts out of joint pain now and no longer growls. And when we get upstairs and I put him down he becomes playful. He dances around like a little drunken leprechaun, and when he comes running towards me he attempts to stand on his hind legs and push me with his front paws (think of the way Elaine Benes used to shove Jerry on Seinfeld) but his hips are so weak they give out and he topples over (hence the drunken leprechaun). That doesn’t stop him from wanting to play, however. But he simply doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up.
Occasionally he’ll find himself near the coffee table and when he wants my attention he’ll pull himself up and put his weight on his front legs and stare at me as if he has something to say.
As for walks, it’s an advantage to have Atticus off leash so he can go at his pace while Will and I go at his. He’s grown used to his harness and seems to find comfort in the connection it gives us. On Wednesday we took our time walking in the woods along an earthen path. Every now and again Atticus would return to make sure we were okay – and we were. We were simply going at Will’s pace. When all was said and done I realized we’d actually walked a mile. I wondered how tired he would be, or how sore. But when we returned home and I carried him up the stairs there was that same drunken leprechaun charging at me with a wide open mouth, but no longer to bite as he did that first day, but to play.
Some have noted in his pictures that Will now looks like a puppy and he does. He plays like one, too. The only difference is that after fifteen minutes of playing he needs to sleep for a few hours. He finds one of the dog beds I have around our home or plops down on the carpet and when he’s asleep I cover his old, bony body with a blanket to keep him warm.
Atticus and I lead a pretty boring life. We love our privacy, music often plays in the house, comforting scents drift from the crockpot, and candles flicker. I sit and read and Atticus sits next to me. And now Will often sleeps on my feet. When we’re outside, it’s a different story, of course. Atticus and I take full advantage of Will’s numerous naps to get plenty of exercise at a faster pace.
And through it all I cannot believe it’s only been five days. So much has transpired. So much has transformed.
This morning we went to Christine O’Connell’s office for Will’s first vet visit. I wasn’t sure how he would handle it since he’s sore in numerous places and many dogs do not like going to the vets. But a most wonderful thing happened. Will walked to the door with me, got on the scale when I showed him where it was, then walked calmly to the front desk with me. When another dog came in he acknowledged him and they sniffed each other in a friendly fashion.
Christine greeted him on the floor and when I lifted him up to the table he was kind and gentle and let them pull and prod him in places that couldn’t have felt good. His teeth are rotten and he badly needs a cleaning, his ears are extremely sensitive and need a deep cleaning as well, his hips – his poor hips are weak and under-exercised. And yet throughout it all there stood Will, his blurry eyes looking right into mine as I cradled him.
When we left the office he was calm and confident as we walked to the car together and when I looked down at him I had to smile at him for I saw something in him I’d not seen that first day. It was a calm yet warm sense of self – a sense of belonging and of being loved.
He has come a long way in the past ten days: pulled from his home, placed in a kill shelter, and feeling frightened to feeling right at home – to feeling like there is no place he shouldn’t be at ease.
I believe the greatest gift we can give another is the ability to be themselves. It’s amazing what can happen when you allow another to simply be who they are.
I have no illusions about Will. Never have. I understand he’s come to live out his days with us and that no matter how much time is left it will break my heart to see him go. But days like this…well, I think this is what heaven is like – to give the gift of life and dignity.
Five days ago we took in a frightened, angry, and lost soul. Today we walked out of Christine O’Connell’s office as friends.
As I write this I have a tears of happiness welling up in my eyes for I have one friend who will never be abandoned with his head resting against my hip, and another who was lost and has now been found with his head on my feet.
37 comments:
Tom, I have happy tears reading the post. I'm so glad William has joined your family. Everyone- and I include our pets here- deserves to live with companionship and love. Reading your posts makes me happy.
old dogs are wonderful. anyone who takes one in and cares for it will benefit from the time spent with their dog. anyone who takes one in will be a better person for having done so....
My friend, you once again have tears rolling down my face. I will never be able to say how much your taking Will into your home means. Many may have done it, but I am not sure anyone could be as loving and gentle with him as you and Atti are. Thanks for sharing this and hope as long as you have Will you will continue to keep us updated.
Tom,
I have tears streaming down my face too. Your writing is so heart moving, with the love just pouring out. How you managed to explain, with such beautiful detail~~I can see, feel, even touch what you are telling through your writing. it is makes me humble to know there are such caring, loving, completely giving individuals such as you.
the Angels have blessed you to have a heart of gold and to have such wonderful companions as Atti and Will, and they have been blessed to have you. I cry for your story with joy. I also cry for my wonder girl that left me in February... She had cancer and stayed with me a year longer than the Vet declared she would. She was my Angel (and still is), and I miss my walking pal, my loving baby girl.. She was 14 years old and almost blind, deaf and even more stubborn than me! yet she continued to walk with me, at her pace so her beagle nose could smell every flower and blade of grass that we passed.
So here is to sense of self. It allows all of us creatures of this Universe to be who we were meant to be. Blessings to you and your wonder dogs!
Katy B
Amazing post, Tom. All that clarity, comfort, love, and beauty...and a Seinfeld reference to boot. :) I am so happy and grateful to "know" you and Atti and Will.
I wish everyone who has thought about adopting an animal from a shelter but hasn't done it could read this. It's a beautiful affirmation of what it means to rescue.
Always appreciate your literary tidbits...today a readers feast...thanks, Tom..
What a sweet story....and it's only the first week!
We had such similar feelings a year ago when we adopted our blind dachshund, GoGo. He had an unknown past and had obviously been in some poor conditions as shown by his spotty hairloss, sensitive ears, underweight frame, and "wonky" toes that had obviously been broken at one time. Being blind and in a ragged state, the shelter that had him would not be able to get him to a family, but the rescue organization that found him sure could.
The first week he was home was a lot of trial and error....but letting GoGo (and our first doxie, Pretzel) have some space and time led to everyone gaining an understanding of how things were going to work. And our family wouldn't be the same if GoGo wasn't there!
There are some tough issues to face with an older, ailing, or otherwise "different" dog....but it's pretty rewarding and amazing too. There's a lot of love in that frail little body.
I, too, read this blog & got misty eyed. Will is a very lucky guy to have connected with you & Atticus.
Wow this is such a beautiful story and I too have tear filled eyes. It is wonderfule what you and Atticus are doing for Will.... being his friend. The world would be such a better place if everyone could follow your example.
This is beautiful, thank you Tom!
Your post reminds me so much of the puppy mill rescue mini schnauzer I adopted in June of 2009. Like you, I was bitten when I picked him up. Fortunately he doesn't have enough teeth left to hurt so I just let him whale away until he wore himself out. It took over a year before he allowed me to pick him up without so much as a grumble. Good thing I can now scoop him up anytime. He has hindquarter weakness and I end up carrying him a lot.
The greatest rewards of my life have come from this surly little guy. An occasional tail wag makes my heart soar. And the best is when he was resting on my chest as I leaned back in my office chair. He raised his head to look straight into my eyes... held the look... then tucked his little head under my chin. That brought tears.
He is only 12 years old but 8 years in a puppy mill took its toll.
Thank you for adopting a senior pet. So many people miss a treasure when they choose instead a "perfect" or "normal" dog. Love's most beautiful face is sometimes hidden behind a damaged mask.
Tom, a friend of mine turned me on to the story of you and Atticus a while back. (I always adore your pics of Atticus and his travels.) This latest story is just one more reason I need to keep following you. From one dog lover to another, thank you for rescuing Will - every dog deserves a chance. Glad he found you.
My words are not enough...instead deep, soulful, heartfelt emotion - thank you, thank you.
Yes Tom, I too have tears of joy reading this. Eyes tell so much, as I mentioned when you posted Will's pic after his grooming. Will has overcome much and will continue to do so. And for that which is beyond his, or your control, the three of you will adjust accordingly.
Your story reminds me of how Teddy's parallels. Though only four years old when he was displaced due to his human's inability to care for herself, he was extremely underweight, severely matted and confused as to why his life had changed. And now, just as Will is progressing, literally by leaps and bounds, so too has Teddy.
I've always said, the one truly saved by rescue/adoption isn't the four-legged friend - it's the human.
Happy Friday to the three of you!
Hazel
What a beautiful story! I know that many people would not take in a dog of Will's age and in his condition because they know that heartache is soon to follow, but to think like that is to only think of yourself. What about the dog, who if nobody took in, would have spent his last days, scared and alone in a shelter. By opening your heart and thinking of Will and not yourself, you have re-written a new chapter to the end of Will's life story. You have reminded Will of what it feels like to love and be loved. That is the greatest gift you could have ever given him at this point in his life. Thank you for being such a kind person!
Tom-What a beautiful piece of writing but of course I am not surprised. By both the writing and your generosity. Nick turns 12 on Monday. He's healthy and active and for that I am thankful every day.
Sue
Tom, I'm also crying happy tears. We lost our first schnauzer, Pepper (a rescue) 3 years ago to liver cancer at the age of 14. We now have 3 schnauzer boys, all rescues, and completely understand the love and joy that Atticus, Max and now Will have brought into your life. Bless you and Atti for opening your hearts to sweet William and ensuring that the remainder of his life will only be filled with love and happiness <3
Will reminds me of my 93 year old uncle Mac. He was severely burned (gasoline) last year and they weren't sure if he'd make it. We'll he recovered in a big way. The power of the human (or in this case dog) spirit.
Beautiful story! Thank you for sharing.
As with your book Tom you gave brought sad and happy tears to my eyes. They are still moist as I try to type this. William and Atticus are so blessed with you. Thank you. Bonnie Colvert
I'm so happy for all three of you, Tom. That's a lot of progress in a very short time...
I think William is simply like Walt Whitman's noseless, patient spider. He's been standing out there for much too long on that lonely promontory, launching forth threads into the vacant, vast surrounding, hoping one will catch on something, someone, and he will be saved.
And he was.
So beautiful! Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for this thoughtful and loving post. I kind of figured from what you didn't say on Sunday that William was in bad shape. I don't know if it helps that what you describe sounds like a fairly predictable batch of health issues for an elderly and neglected dog. But it still hurts to see him suffer.The Bible has a wonderful word our quality I have never seen elsewhere: lovingkindness. That is what you are showing William in your patience and loving attention to who he is and what he needs. I can't think of a greater gift to offer an abandoned and frightened little dog. Or those of us humans who don't get to take a good chomp out of the nearest thumb;)!
And once again, tears streaming down my cheeks! Tears of happiness...
As I read your post, I was surprised to read that you and Atticus lead a boring life...to me, your life is anything but boring. How wonderful to be able to surround yourself with love...with nature...with beautiful boys Atticus and William. Tom, you have a heart of gold! Bless you!
You have an amazing way with words-Thank You!
You are a remarkable man Tom we are so glad that we are part of the Following Atticus family .. Your spirit of this blog and book is truly an island from a very entangled world we have to look at daily Thank you! It gives us hope and comfort! We hope to meet you at some point Thank you again from the pack :-))
Tom, I have enjoyed your blog for a few years now and also your book
"Following Atticus". Being proud owners of two rescued Mini Schnauzers, Ginger now 11 yr. and Jaz 6 yrs. I can appreciate the way you express your love and understanding of these wonderful creatures. You are a "special" man. Thank you for your words and wish you would come to Cleveland, Ohio on a book tour, so I could personally give you a big hug!!!
Dang it Tom, you have me crying every time. William reminds me so much of my old dog Shelby. She is deaf and arthritic,but tries to play too, which she never did when she was young. She gives me great joy in her later years, and I am so proud of you and happy for william. And PS..I kinda handle things like Atticus does. lol
This is a beautiful post. Thank you for giving Will and new wonderful home.
Echoing everyone else, thank you again Tom, for a heartfelt update on William! We all feel different and feel better when we hear and see good things happening around us, and your blog sends out that 'good stuff!' I've never been a so-called 'dog person,' I am thoroughly a 'cat person' but I never cease to be amazed by how deeply I can feel connected to Atti and now William through YOUR writing! I must admit that until I read your FB post last week about 'tomorrow we bring a new member into our family' I hadn't been keeping up with you for a few days. And when I read that sentence I thought Paige was finally moving up here to New Hampshire! :) But learning about William was wonderful too! Sincerely can't wait until the ladies at White Birch talk you into another evening storytime! I want to listen to you again!
Once again, your written words elicit tears of joy...thank you
Tom, Atti & Will,
:)....how wonderful.....Will clearly trusts you, he can sense how safe it is to be with you and Atticus, dogs do that, they know. I love it when someone adopts an elderly dog, because with that there are more often than not lots of vet bills due to age, a lot more care, that is a huge commitment of love & care, kudos to YOU.....the love in return from a senior dog is just as rewarding as say a puppy....but the love shared is stronger more so because of the shorter time they have left.
The adjustment time is amazing for Will, and that is because you and Atticus rock!!! You are both gentle souls. How amazing would it be if every human being had such warm souls as you, the world would be so calm, caring and loving.....The best to you all, and may you and Atticus share/make wonderful memories with Will.....Tom you emit such wonderful energy--lets hope it's contagious....
Still Following
Tom, you are to be commended for your compassion for all things which have life.
Your essay brings to mind a quote attributed to Alfred A. Montapert, as follows:
"Animals are reliable, many full of love, true in their affections, predictable in their actions, grateful and loyal. Difficult standards for people to live up to."
Hi Tom,
Srini and I volunteer at the NH SPCA in Stratham. We walk many dogs each week, spending some quality time with each one outdoors, away from their kennel. Many are wild or unruly but become cuddly and affectionate once you give them just a little bit of love. It is wonderful to see and read about Will coming out of his shell with the love and kindness shared by you and Atticus. Each time a "tough" dog is adopted out at the SPCA we all shed a few tears for their good fortune. Thanks for what you're are giving Will, a few tears were shed. Ellen
A beautiful piece of writing from a beautiful soul. When two women brought one of our rescues, McNibs, last year, they commented on how peaceful our home felt. That is exactly how I felt reading about yours. I look forward to hearing more.
Tom, you can squeeze more out of an experience, be it mountain or dog, than just about anyone I know. In return your dog is similarly rewarded. As for the mountains, I can't say. Is writing about it is part of the secret?
John
I wish I had the time and money to adopt a dog like Will. Your blog is heartwarming as well as heartbreaking. It also reminds me of my second dog I had adopted years ago. Lucky, blacklab/doberman lived for 13 years. She also had arthritis in her golden years. At the end she was a walking skeleton (according to vet she was eating less to take weight off of her hips). The whimpering and moans were heartbreaking and I finally had to make a decision. I held her that day & told her how much I loved her as she peacefully & painlessly went to sleep.
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