Over the next few days, Toby began wandering around the house, soon barking to go outside to sit in the afternoon sun. His tail started wagging and by the end of the week he had tipped over all the wastebaskets in the house and snatched a loaf of bread from the kitchen counter. I was ready to kick his butt. I wanted my wife to wipe that self-satisfied look off her face. This was three months ago.
Except for a newly torn cruciate ligament, he’s pretty much like a pup again, carrying around his dinner bowl in his mouth, coaxing me to fill it constantly with the canned moist food I switched to when he got sick. I don’t have the heart to go back to the tasteless dry fare that he never relished.
Toby is 13, but my hope is that he lives long enough for his leg to mend and that we can head out again for our daily walks around the neighborhood. The growths may never have been found had he not been treated for this incidental infection. I’m thinking he may stick around for a while.
I could have easily made a different decision that night at the clinic, never knowing if I made the right one. This experience offers no life lessons. There is no moral here. It’s just a story, but so far, a story with a happy ending.
Dick Wolfsie is a television news reporter, syndicated humor columnist and author. He can be reached at Wolfsie@aol.com.