Wednesday, December 19, 2012


     Today’s story really speaks to the part of me that believes animals and our relationships with them are woven into our destiny.  Clare’s family had a rescue dog, Fleetwood, who went to the Rainbow Bridge at age 15, leaving them bereft. When they were ready, she and her husband did what responsible potential rescuers do, they researched a breed they thought would be a good fit for their family, which included 3 young girls.  They came up with a Newfoundland. Their daughters even agreed on a name, Waldo.  However, it was quite some time before their vision became a reality.

     The problem was Newfies aren’t easy to find in the rescue circuit.  They searched petfinder for months, and even talked with a breeder. However, Clare was reluctant to go through a breeder because “I knew the dog for us was out there somewhere and he was going to be a dog . . . whose heart had been broken by abandonment or loss and could be healed by being part of our family.”

     Then one day at church, Clare’s husband mentioned their search to a woman who happened to be a surgical vet tech. Two weeks later they were informed that a woman who rescues giant breeds came into the veterinarian’s office with a male Landseer Newf who met their exact specifications, including being great with kids.  Another good sign?  He answered to the name Walter!  “Close enough,” Clare said.

     Waldo, found with an embedded collar and hot spots, had been a stray around a campground for quite some time, so his house manners need some work.  However, Clare shared, “his gentle nature and desire to please is obvious in everything he does.”  

     In the interest of full disclosure, gentle reader, Clare and I go way back and I'm certain Waldo is in the perfect household for him. In fact, I wish they didn't live halfway across the country because I want to hug Waldo for hours. I know I'd have to get in line though, because I'm sure he's getting lots of hugs already.  I’m going to go straight for the cliché here, and I’m not even ashamed. Where’s Waldo?  He’s home, where he belongs.