Pagosa
Good morning! Here is a picture of our dog, Pagosa, sitting in my husband's chair, patiently waiting for five o'clock to roll around. He is named for Pagosa Springs, Colorado, where John and I were married. I actually drove a fair distance to a shelter in Louisiana to pick him up, when he was just 6 weeks old. Something about his face said, "Choose me." So we did. Ain't he sweet?
posted by Zoe's Art Stuff @ 7:03 AM
2 Comments:
Thanks for the comments you left on my site this morning. It is reassuring to know that there are a smattering of reasonable people alive and well in the Bible Belt.
We had a dog named Dakota that we had to have put down of old age and multiple infirmaties a few months back. He looked similar to NoApologies' Chester ... but no white chest. We got him after he was grown and thoroughly neurotic and he was with us for nine or ten years. He ate the insides of cars, lunged against his leash continually while being walked, went into barking frenzies when the doorbell rang, hated men who wore caps or hats ... but was generally loveable and liked being with people.
Dakota sounds like a terrific dog. Who among us does not have our little foibles and quirks of personality? Pagosa adores John with a slavishness that is touching, but he is loyal to me in his odd way. John always gets up first and starts the coffee, and Pagosa, even though it is killing him to be out of John's sight, will not go downstairs without me. If I choose to lie in bed another fifteen minutes (and I often do!), he sits patiently at the foot of the bed, sighing his tiny, anxious sighs. When I finally do get up, he leaps to his feet with glee, toenails clicking on the hardwood floor. "She's up! She's up!"
I'm sorry Dakota is gone. Hard decision to put him down, I know.
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