Nadine J Walters – My Life

Question for me today: Tell me about your dog—what he’s like and how he fits into your life?

Answer: My dog Andy is pretty much the center of my life—which makes sense, I suppose, considering I’m an old lady with a soft spot for loyal companions. Andy is a white Bernedoodle, smart as can be, but definitely a dog with a mind of his own. Sometimes I feel like I can read his thoughts, and other times, he keeps me guessing.

Right now, for instance, he’s pacing the room in full scavenger mode, looking for handouts. He stops occasionally to stare at me with that intense, zombie-dog gaze. It’s after dinner and he’s already had everything he’s getting, so I know the pacing and staring won’t last much longer. Once he gives up, he’ll pick a chair, rearrange the pillows to his liking, and settle in for the night.

Around 7 PM, like clockwork, Andy nods off and becomes completely immobile. He’ll sleep wherever he happens to be until I’m ready for bed. When that time comes, I have to wake him up and coax him—slowly, very slowly—into the bedroom. Once there, he hops on the bed and doesn’t budge until 6 AM, when breakfast calls.

And food definitely calls Andy. It’s his main motivator in life. When I adopted him, he was a scrawny, one-year-old pup who looked like Dobby the house elf from Harry Potter. He would eat anything—berries from the yard, scraps on the street, even a neighbor’s tomatoes. He tried counter surfing once too, but we nipped that habit in the bud with a training collar. After one beep and buzz, Andy decided that swiping food off the counter wasn’t worth the trouble. Now, he knows exactly when he’s going to get fed or treated, but I still catch him watching me, plotting and hoping for more.

I have Andy groomed every four weeks because his thick white fur grows fast and picks up the dirt of our outdoor life. After a few weeks, he starts to take on a terra cotta tint, and his paws look like he’s wearing little red boots. I usually give him a bath mid-month to keep him clean between grooming sessions. Tonight was bath night, and Andy hates water. He tried curling up in a tight little ball in his bed to avoid detection, but I found him. He looked absolutely betrayed as I dragged him to the tub, where he acted like he was going to die. One quick scrub later, he was fluffy and white again.

After the bath, we take a car ride to the park to dry off. With the windows down, the wind gives him a nice blow-dry, and a brisk walk finishes the job. It’s a routine he tolerates, but I think he secretly enjoys the ride.

When Andy thinks it’s time for a walk, he’ll bring me a shoe—it’s adorable and hilarious until it isn’t. If the walk doesn’t happen fast enough, he sometimes chews the shoe… usually one of the expensive leather ones. I suspect it’s his version of revenge for being ignored.

Andy also knows the names of his favorite people and dog friends. If I tell him my sister is coming over, he immediately races to the window to look for her. He knows the names of his buddies at the park and goes absolutely bananas if I mention Marty, my daughter’s dog. Marty is his favorite by far.

What I know for certain is that Andy feels safe and secure with me. I think he knows he can always count on me—even when he’s been a little naughty, he knows I’ll forgive him. He’s loving, joyful, clever, and occasionally sneaky—and he’s changed my life for the better. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without the little guy!