Written by Terri Reddout
When I say the word “dog” what image pops in your head?
This is the image that pops into my head. This is a my Cocker Spaniel, Roger. He was afraid of vacuums, loved to toss watering cans, chased racket balls and always made friends with the little old ladies who lived on the other side of the fence.
When he was a pup we had to pay extra to have him groomed because he whined so loud it sounded as if the groomers were torturing him. It broke my heart when I had to leave him with my brother when we moved out of state.
Or perhaps it’s the image of my friend’s Great Dane. The dog was size of a small horse and ate a ton of food. My friend suffered from Post-traumatic stress disorder after serving in Afghanistan and Iraq. As a service dog, this Great Dane offered my friend a sense of security. My friend told me it felt as though someone had his back. The dog recently died. It’s going to take a really big dog to fill his paws.
Or is your image of Raven, my dad’s dog. She rode around the orchard on the back of my dad’s quad. If I happen to sit on Raven’s side of the seat on the back of the quad, she would reclaim her spot by pushing me over and, sometimes, off the quad. Yet, if I ever went into an orchard by myself, I would look over a couple of rows and see Raven tracking me. Like Lassie, I trusted Raven to run back and let my dad know if I were in some kind of danger. Continue reading Traveling grapes and bear cookies