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An all-volunteer, 501(c)(3) animal welfare organization dedicated to the spaying and neutering of cats and dogs in the Lafayette and Green Counties of Wisconsin |
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Writings by Other Folks Max the St. Bernard
Margaret
A. Miller, 05/26/01
Today I took my Saint Bernard with me to pick up some dog food. As I drove, he sat happily in the back seat of my car, gazing out the window, tongue hanging down, slobber winging by my face every once in awhile. I was happy he was with me, yet kind of sad wondering why I didn't make the effort to take him along more often. I know several valid reasons why: I don't want him to get too hot in the car; the big guy attracts attention and I worry that he might attract the wrong kind of attention from people who don't like dogs; he drools and sometimes I'm just dressed too nice for drool; he's a farm dog and sometimes he is just too dirty for my car. But it's sad that I don't make more of an effort to make this wonderful dog's day by taking him with me when I go for short jaunts. His favorite thing in the world is to go "bye-bye" with me. A few times, I've taken him on very short trips (5 - 10 minutes or so) to give him a little treat, but he's just too smart for that and, when we get home, he won't get out of the car. So I have to drive back into town for bologna so that I can bribe him out of the car. Otherwise, he'll sit in there for hours, protesting that his ride wasn't long enough. When a 230-pound dog makes his mind up that the ride wasn't long enough, well, it wasn't long enough. Max is a simple dog. It doesn't take much to make him happy: food that tastes good; lots of clean, cool water; baths in the summer; belly scratches in the morning before he will get up to start the day; reassurance that he's a good boy. And rides in the car. He's eight years old now. As dogs go, Saints don't live that long; they're just too big. He's starting to slow down. It takes him just a little longer to get in the car than it used to. Someday I'm not going to have him around, and then I'm going to wish I'd taken more time to do the fun things that he loved so much. But I've always got reasons, too busy, whatever. What is it about people that we'd rather have the regrets later, than make the effort now? |
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