For the Love of Animals

A Collection of Short Stories

By Barbara Techel

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For the Love of Animals

This is a selection of stories from my column, “For the Love of Animals” which I

wrote for the Depot Dispatch from 2006-2011.

© 2012 by Barbara Techel

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a

retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical,

photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission

in writing from the author.

Printed in the United States of America

978-0-9800052-8-8

Learn more information at: www.joyfulpaws.com

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DEDICATION To all the animals who make the world a happier place.

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Table of Contents

Introduction

The Gift of Second Chances

Puppy Antics

Two Hearts Rescued

Rosie the Skiing and Reading Therapy Dog

The Modeling World Has Gone to the Dogs

Snickers the Miniature Therapy Horse

The Silly Names We Call Our Pets

Hospice Plus Therapy Dogs Equals Golden Moments

Pardon Me, Is that a Cowboy?

Tucker's Tale

Steve and Maggie: The Story of Love Between a Man and his Dog

The Dance of a Dog's Dreams

Contact Information

Share this Book

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INTRODUCTION

My life transitioned when my chocolate Labrador, Cassie, was diagnosed

with terminal bone cancer in late 2004.

Watching Cassie live each day with the same joy she always had, even with

cancer, made me yearn for more joy in my own life. Because of Cassie, I took a

three-month hiatus from my small business, to work with a life coach, and think

about what I truly wanted for myself. What would bring me more happiness? I

wondered.

From that sabbatical, I discovered how deeply I truly love animals. I decided

to become a writer so I could share my love of animals with others, the many

lessons I believe they teach us, and all the joy they bring to our lives.

I like to think of my journey since then, as “Joyful Paws.” You see, I paused

(paws) long enough in my life to really give thought to what makes me most

joyful. In turn, that has helped me to live with more purpose. And I happened to

learn all of this because of a dog.

When I find myself getting stressed about situations, I am reminded to look

for my Joyful Paws moments which my dogs, and the many animals I have met

along the way, remind me to do.

These short stories are my collection of all things animals – my love for

them, the lessons they teach us, the laughter they provide, and most important, the

unconditional love they give us daily.

I hope these stories will bring you Joyful Paws moments.

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THE GIFT OF SECOND CHANCES

It is my belief that everything that happens, happens for a reason. I may not

always like some of the changes that occur, but when I look back, I can usually see

the divine purpose that was my guide in helping me learn something new.

So it was with Ted. While at a car show in Beaver Dam, with his wife

Dianne, Ted was not feeling quite himself. As Ted and Dianne were about to leave

for the day he said, “I just do not feel well. I need to get out and walk around.”

As Ted got out of the car, he fell over. Dianne went into shock and

everything around her became surreal.

Ted was not breathing and had no pulse. Lucky for him, his guardian angels

swooped in and saved his life. Near-by participants were able to resuscitate him

and rush him to the hospital where he had bypass surgery.

Recovering at home, Ted felt a void. When they moved to their new home in

Glenbeulah a few years ago, their dog Muffy, a Springer and Basset hound mix

made the move with them but passed away a few weeks later. Thinking a dog

might be the answer, Ted began his search for a new furry friend to bring into his

life.

He went from pound to pound looking for that “special one.” He ended up at

the Fond du Lac Humane Society where he met Ruby. Though she was skin and

bones and weighed only 55 pounds, he felt a connection with her.

I said, “What was it about Ruby that made her stand out?”

“She was not barking and was remarkably calm. She was so docile, and her

colors were beautiful.”She had been there for eleven days.

The volunteers took Ruby outside as Ted watched. The girls were hugging

and loving Ruby, and she ate it up. Some people may be reluctant to do this

because of the stigma placed on individual breeds. Ruby happens to be a

Doberman. She is chocolate in color, with lighter shades of chocolate mixed in,

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and one of the most beautiful Doberman’s I have ever seen. There is just

something about her that draws a person right into her soul.

Ted was pretty sure this was the dog for him. He went home and told

Dianne. They decided to take Ruby into their life. When Ted went to pick her up

he was given pedigree papers for her, which surprised him. How did a pedigree

dog end up in the pound, he wondered?

During a baby shower at their home, Ted watched as a young boy pulled and

tugged at Ruby’s ears and neck. She would whimper a bit, but never growled. She

remained the same sweet, obedient dog Ted observed a few weeks earlier.

This is when it occurred to Ted that Ruby might make a terrific therapy dog.

He had wanted to give back ever since he was given a second chance at life.

Since Ted had the pedigree papers, he was able to contact the breeder of

Ruby. Now call it coincidence but the breeder happened to live in Beaver Dam. As

Ted talked with her, he learned her dogs are registered therapy dogs. She also told

him that Ruby was the pick of the litter. As a puppy, she gave Ruby to a girlfriend

for a show dog, but a year and a half later that woman gave Ruby up. Somehow

she then ended up at the humane society. A divine purpose was at work as Ruby

traveled many roads to her final destination with Ted.

There was no doubt Ruby’s purpose. Soon she passed her Canine Good

Citizen award. Ted then went to a therapy dog testing site one day simply to

observe what had to be done to have Ruby become registered. He had no intentions

of doing the test that day. As Ted watched the other dogs, he decided to have Ruby

tested. He had a hunch she was a natural, and indeed she was. She passed with

flying colors.

Ted and Ruby now visit nursing homes two to three times a week. They

have made visits to Rocky Knoll, Arbor View, Pine Haven and Prairie Crossing.

Many of the residents eagerly await their visit and will not go to bed until they see

Ruby. She also makes the day of kids at a daycare in Plymouth, who welcome

meeting the large, gentle giant. Since June, Ruby and Ted have made over fifty

visits!

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“Ruby knows she is priceless. We call her Diva” Ted said.

Final proof of that is the night Ruby would not let Ted sleep. Ruby usually

slept downstairs but woke Ted with a constant pawing at the side of the bed. She

would leave after Ted’s scolding, only to return again and again. The last time she

returned she put her paw on Ted’s chest intent on getting his full attention. So Ted

finally got up, went downstairs and discovered the slow beep of the smoke alarm.

As soon as Ted put in new batteries, Ruby was content to let Ted head back to bed,

as Ruby snuggled in for the remainder of the night. Yes, I would certainly agree

that Ruby is priceless!

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PUPPY ANTICS

Weaved into our everyday existence are stories to be shared. As I began to

consider writing a new short story, I didn’t expect it to be a lesson learned from the

antics of a puppy.

Living with dogs is an adventure, to say the least. A journey of love,

comedian antics, patience, holding your breath, and then starting all over again;

and that is just within one hour of any given day.

Nestled in my lap with her elongated boney snout perched on my keyboard

is Frankie, my six-year-old miniature dachshund. She is recovering nicely after an

ordeal that had the nerves below my skin frazzled to their core.

My five-month-old yellow Labrador, Kylie, is your typical Lab. Everything

that can go into her mouth, goes in without a thought or question as to what it

might be or how it might taste. Each time she bounds (or should I say flies?) out

the front door to do her duty, she comes back with a questionable item hanging

from her jowls. What could it be this time? I wonder. It might be a soggy leaf

leftover from last fall, a snippet of crisp greenery from a shrub, or a chunk of juicy

wet dirt from the flowerless flowerbed. At times I think I could save a lot of money

on dog food and let her snorkel to her heart’s content on the many feasts that lurk

outdoors. What in the world possesses a dog to eat what they eat is beyond me!

Kylie’s latest choice of consumption was our kitchen area rug. I had caught

her in “the act” a few times, chewing on the edges. I managed to trim away the

loose strands she left behind. I sprayed Bitter Green Apple on the rug in hopes it

would deter her from devouring it even further. Unbeknownst to me, what seems to

have happened is Kylie once again chewed the area rug the following day. I can

just imagine the thinking that went on inside her head: “Gee! My mom did not

‘get it’ the first time and has left the rug out for me to chew again! Yummy!”

Frankie became sick that morning and could not hold anything down. After a

day, Frankie was not getting better and had now thrown up about four times. I was

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quite worried so I made a call to my vet.

Within the hour, I headed to the animal clinic to have Frankie examined by

her vet, Dr. Q. After explaining that I thought Frankie may have eaten some of the

carpet Kylie had chewed up, Dr. Q. said he needed to take an x-ray of Frankie’s

stomach. He told me it would take about an hour. He suggested I head home where

he would call me when he had the results.

I made my way home, praying all the way there that everything would turn

out fine. The hour ahead of me crept by so slowly. As I glanced at the clock in my

office every five minutes, it was as if the hands on the clock were super-glued to its

metal face.

About an hour later, the phone finally rang. Dr. Q. explained to me that the

x-rays showed something of suspicion in Frankie’s intestine, but he could not make

out what it was. He highly advised surgery immediately. I gave my consent to go

ahead.

As I hung up the phone, I took a deep breath. In my mind I pictured God’s

hands open, swaddling Frankie close through the surgery. Two stress-filled hours

later, the long-awaited call came. Within Frankie’s tiny stomach, Dr. Q. found a

pile of carpet fiber strings. One of the strings was just beginning to wrap around

her intestine.

Dr. Q. told me because of my quick reaction, I likely just saved Frankie’s

life. With a shaky voice, I said, “Thank you so much.” As I hung up the phone,

once again, a huge sigh of relief escaped my lungs. I burst into tears for what could

have been, but grateful to know she was going to be okay.

Frankie would need to stay overnight for observation. The next day couldn’t

come fast enough as I eagerly anticipated our reunion.

I arrived at the clinic the next afternoon grinning from ear to ear. Kim, the

kind, caring technician went over all the post operation precautions before I could

see Frankie: a special diet, antibiotics, and rest for the next 14 days. I could hardly

keep my mind on what she was telling me because I wanted so badly to hold

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Frankie in my arms once again.

Finally, the moment arrived when Kim said, “Okay, I’ll be right back with

Frankie.” A few moments later, Kim came around the corner with her. It was with

a joyful heart that I scooped her into my arms. Her tail was wagging a hundred

miles a minute, which I believe was her way of saying she was happy to see me

too! Frankie recovered, and was back to her same old spunky self in no time at all.

As I come to the end of writing this tale, Kylie is sitting next to me. In my

imagination, I picture her with her doggie reading glasses on perusing the “help

wanted” ads. I have told her due to the role she played in the carpet escapade, she

will need to find a part-time job to help pay for Frankie’s surgery. I am kidding of

course. But I think she is seriously considering a paper route at this time.

Don’t be surprised if in your neighborhood you see a three-foot tall,

strawberry blonde pup, towing a red wagon behind her, and a rolled newspaper

clamped in her mouth. Instead of throwing her a bone as a tip, she is asking you to

consider a cash donation to pay her debt so she can return as soon as possible to the

task of just being a puppy, playing and sleeping her days away.

Lesson learned from this puppy antic (which I am sure won’t be the last!):

kitchen area rug (disposed of in garbage), $15; one exploratory surgery and carpet

strings removed, $900; one alive and happy Frankie…Priceless!

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TWO HEARTS RESCUED

Penny, Keno, Fritz, Bearlington Barron, Ashes in the Wind and last but not

least, Abby, are Dalmatians that were lucky enough to have Laverne care for them.

Dalmatians had been a part of Laverne’s life for over fifty years. Abby passed

away in February of 2006 leaving Laverne feeling sad and lonely.

Laverne really wanted to love another Dalmatian, but realized that might be

a challenge with her age. She was very cautious and took her time thinking about

it. With encouragement from her friends, she decided to look for an older

Dalmatian. Her friends stepped in with that effort and one thing lead to another to

bring her in contact with Save Our Spots Dalmatian Rescue. Five year old Suzie

met Laverne and wiggled her way into Laverne’s heart within minutes.

Not hesitating one moment, Laverne prepared her home by placing a doggie

bed in the living room, dining room and bedroom. She bought dog food and treats

and set out water and kibble dishes. Dog toys were abundant for Suzie when

arriving to Laverne’s home in early October. Suzie helped Laverne feel alive

again.

Laverne is a perfect example of the positive effect a dog can have on your

life. She is eighty years young, and a gracious, big-hearted lady who knows how

good it feels to be needed and loved. As Laverne awakes each morning, she

glances at the closet mirror opposite her bed. The reflection looking back at her

gives her purpose to rise for the day. That purpose, Suzie, wags her tail and smiles

only as a dog can do.

Pets can provide love and many other benefits to the elderly. Studies are

expanding our knowledge by leaps and bounds on this subject. The following are

some of the benefits an animal can provide to a senior (www.deltasociety.com):

Dogs are therapeutic and can help alleviate against everyday stress.

Seniors that have dogs tend to go to the doctor less.

Cholesterol levels can be lower when an animal is part of a senior’s life.

Seniors with pets have high optimism and better psychological well-being. 13

Animals help to promote social interaction and decrease isolation and

loneliness.

Pets are experts at encouraging laughter, playfulness and exercise.

The need for touch, warmth and affection is satisfied with a pet.

It really is simple. We all want to be needed and loved. These feelings are

especially true for the elderly. Laverne takes great delight in caring for Suzie. She

visits the local senior center often and has gotten the go-ahead to bring Suzie in for

a visit. Not only is Suzie providing love for Laverne, but she will also share her

love with Laverne’s friend who is in the nursing home.

One dog can provide so much affection and warmth. It is hard to put that feeling

into words, as it can only be felt with the heart.

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ROSIE THE SKIING AND READING THERAPY DOG

Two summers ago while shopping among the vendors at my local Farmer’s

Market I felt transported into a divine state by Katie and her keyboard. Immersed

in the rhythm, her tousled blonde hair tucked into a baseball cap, I walked towards

her, and saw a dog lying at her side. Rosie, a golden retriever, rested her head on

the soft grass, eyes half mast as she basked in the sun.

Shortly after, I saw a flyer from the Mead Public Library announcing Katie

would be at the library with Rosie teaching anyone interested how to train a

therapy dog. Once a month Rosie had her own program called “Reading to Rosie.”

There are many studies, which support increased reading skills for children when

they read to a dog.

The children’s librarian introduced Katie and Rosie and as she did tears

pooled in my eyes. I have a deep respect for therapy dogs. I sat Indian style on the

floor among a circle of fidgety children eager to ask questions. The children asked,

“Is Rosie a girl or boy?” “How old is Rosie?” “Where does she sleep?” “Does she

bite?” These are all pertinent questions to little ones. I approached Katie after the

delightful presentation. I wanted to learn more and asked if we could meet for a

cup of coffee and talk. We met a week later.

Rosie’s life began in Alta, Utah in the midst of the Wasatch National Forest.

She did volunteer work as an avalanche dog, referred to as “avi” dogs. This means

she trained to help rescue people caught in an avalanche. Rosie started with an

endearing habit of swiping the gloves off unsuspecting skiers. After puppy

training, beginning and advance obedience training, avalanche training exercises

and finally boot camp she no longer took skiers gloves. At four years old, Rosie

earned her Canine Good Citizen award and was officially ready for volunteer

work.

Katie says, “Avi" dogs have to have a keen sense of smell along with speed

and efficiency. They need to detect human scent deep beneath the snow.” When an

avalanche occurs, time is of the essence in rescuing victims. They have a ninety

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percent chance if rescued within the first fifteen minutes. Then it falls to fifty

percent after twenty minutes and down to three percent if over two hours. Katie

and Rosie lived on the mountain at 9,000 feet. When Katie hears on the radio that

there has been an avalanche she and Rosie hop aboard their pink snowmobile and

drive to the location.

Rescue teams meet and form a probe line, which is a long stick about ten

feet long that they poke into the snow to find victims. The team members line up

elbow to elbow usually about twenty searchers in a line. Even with this group of

people, having an avi dog increases the chances of finding a victim. A team can

take up to four hours to cover an area. A dog can sniff out a person within thirty

minutes.

Rosie’s shining moments stretched beyond avalanche work when she

rescued four year old twins who lived with their grandfather. It was late one night

when Rosie awoke Katie with her barking. Katie looked through her window and

saw paramedics pulling the limp body of the grandfather from his home. Their

home had filled with carbon monoxide. Katie took Rosie next door to divert the

children’s attention. The twins clung to Rosie, and she comforted them. Rosie

went along to the children’s hospital and provided them with love and security

until the parents arrived. Everyone returned home safely.

Rosie will be ten years old in June and continues to do volunteer work. I

asked Katie why she volunteers and she said, “Rosie needs a job. Her loving heart

and cheerful, enthusiastic personality need an outlet. She loves the opportunity to

please.” Rosie has visited hospitals, nursing homes and prisons. Katie says, “The

greatest reward is watching the human/animal connection unfold.” Rosie is just a

tail wag away when someone needs her. She uplifts spirits and heals hurts and

provides unconditional love and asks nothing in return. Katie and Rosie are back in

Alta. Katie continues to affect people with her music while Rosie continues to

warm the hearts of young and old.

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THE MODELING WORLD HAS GONE TO THE DOGS

It is not your typical runway. Two eight foot banquet tables are end to end,

draped with a white tablecloth. Outfits are laid out on display on a bulletin board

which is off to the side; a denim sundress, an Easter bunny costume, and a white

frock patterned with pink ribbons are among the seasons selections.

What is about to take place is not your exemplary fashion show either. The

model is approximately twelve inches tall, give or take an inch depending on how

her hair is holding up in the heat. She weights a mere three pounds and prefers to

prance instead of sashay. Her name is Sophie and she is a sweet and charming

Yorkshire terrier.

Sophie and her Mom, LuAnn invited me to their monthly Christian

Women’s group held at Pine Hill’s Country Club to see Sophie charm and awe the

ladies.

As guests arrive, Sophie greets each of them in her black, lace velveteen

dress complete with a leopard bow tie and rhinestone accent. Before the show

begins, we eat a breakfast of scrumptious omelets and fruit. Sophie is resting

comfortable in her doggie buggy which is parked between LuAnn and me. LuAnn

slips her a piece of crispy bacon and she devours it in an instant. Did she even

savor the flavor?, I wondered?

As the dishes are cleared, Sophie is whisked away for a change of outfits

before the fashion show begins. Her first outfit is a leopard polar fleece coat.

LuAnn says to the captivated audience, “Her coat is made by my friend, Denise,

who passed away from cancer. She made many of Sophie’s clothes. It was

therapeutic for Denise and it brought her joy to sew outfits for Sophie.”

Sophie’s grandma, Marilyn makes her way through the crowd and up to the

podium. She is the narrator for the show dubbed, “Fashions by Sophie.” LuAnn

tucks Sophie behind the bulletin board which also serves as her staging and

dressing room. Marilyn introduces Sophie as she struts down the runway in her

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leopard coat. The crowd breaks out into oh’s and ah’s and the giddiness cannot be

contained by all the women in the room. As Sophie continues to prance across the

stage and struts her stuff the audience is mesmerized by her charm.

Sophie’s next outfit is a hot pink tutu complete with a matching feather boa.

Ooo, la la! As she approaches the end of the runway it’s as if she knows she has on

a ballet dress because she daintily swirls and twirls. The crowd breaks out into a

thunderous clap!

As the show goes on, Marilyn reads a story about another special yorkie.

This particular yorkie was found in a foxhole in the jungle of New Guinea during

World War II. Smoky, as he became known, ended up to be the mascot of an army

squadron. He entertained wounded troops in hospitals. He is one of the first

therapy dogs on record.

I realized as Marilyn finished reading the story that Sophie was providing us

therapeutic benefits too as she flitted back and forth on the table. She brought big

smiles to our faces and melted our hearts into puddles. There is no better therapy

than the love and antics of a dog.

Sophie’s life is not all about fashion shows. Her favorite day of the week is

Wednesday when she spends the day with her grandma. Marilyn said, “We watch

soap operas together, have lunch, and then go for a ride when I do my errands.”

Sophie has her own doggie car seat in grandma’s car so they are ready to go at any

given moment.

For the elderly the companionship of an animal takes away the loneliness

that can sometimes come into their lives. An animal helps them feel appreciated

and loved. This is most evident as I watched the animated expressions on

Marilyn’s face as she talks about her grand dog. Her eyes light up and she is

simply tickled pink by this small pooch.

As Sophie shows off her tap dance outfit, LuAnn shares some facts about

her. She was born January 6, 2003. She was the only one in the litter and had to be

delivered by C-section. She weighed only 3.5 ounces at birth. She eats a handful of

kibble each day, and rarely barks. Once a month she also gets a doggie massage.

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Sophie’s final appearance is a show stopper! Another friend of LuAnn’s

made this outfit which is the color of the Caribbean ocean. Silver sparkles adorn

the dress all the way to the end of the train which trails behind like you’d see on a

bride. Laugher emits when Sophie wags her tail sending the train rocking side to

side. No girl going to the ball can go without a tiara, right? So perched upon

Sophie’s tiny head is a bedazzling, tiny tiara.

After a hard day of fashion shows, you will find Sophie snuggled in her

Dad’s arms. Paul (Sophie’s Dad) is a strapping man at over six feet and three

hundred pounds. But it does not matter that Sophie is dressed in her pink tutu as

Paul holds her close to his chest. The little princess drifts off to sleep and I think

she just may be dreaming of new outfits yet to be fashioned on the runway. Sweet

dreams little one.

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SNICKERS THE MINIATURE THERAPY HORSE

Dogs and horses are my two top favorite animals. So while at our local

Farmer’s Market a few weeks ago, I couldn’t help but notice Becky, her

daughter’s, and their eight week old black and white puppy named Snoopy. We

began talking, and I soon discovered Becky has a miniature horse who does

therapy work. I knew right then I had to share her story!

On a warm, windy Wednesday, I was eager to start my morning. This would

be the day I would meet Snickers. My short car ride took me to the tiny town of

Ada. If I dared blink, I would have missed Becky’s property as the last house out

of town.

As I pulled into the long gravel driveway, the house sat to the left, and the

stable and horses grazed to the right. It was picture perfect. I felt my heart fall into

a meditative state as my eyes soaked in all the beauty around me.

I rang the doorbell and Mandy, the oldest daughter, answered the door and

invited me in. Becky’s home is warm with rich earth colors and horse decor. As we

sat in the living room, Snoopy, who was now 12-weeks old, came bounding in to

greet me. With a quick scoop, and gentle scold from Mandy, she whisked him back

out of the room.

Mandy and Amber, Becky’s youngest daughter, were busy decorating

themselves in Hawaiian leis around their necks, heads and wrists. Becky explained,

“Each time we visit a nursing home we have a theme which makes it more festive

and fun.”

The girls, Snoopy, Becky and I headed down to the stable. Taking a therapy

horse to a nursing home takes a lot more work than a therapy dog, as I would soon

find out.

Sitting on a wooden bench outside the stable, I watched as the girls brought

Snickers out for her bath. She stands about 31-inches high, cocoa brown in color,

with a large spot on her back. Her ankles are white as if she is wearing socks. Her

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demeanor is very laid back.

I fell into a trance as she got her sudsy bath, which turned the spot on her

back to the whitest white. After her rub down with a towel, the garden hose

became a “catch me if you can” event for Snoopy as he tried to lap up the gushing

water.

After Snickers brushing, the real primping began! Out came the glitter,

which was sprinkled, upon her hooves. Amber lovingly hand sketched a purple

heart on Snickers hind quarter while Mandy braided her mane and tail. Becky

rounded out the grooming by scraping Snickers hooves. A magenta harness placed

around her neck, and her head topped with a neon orange hat.

Mandy guided Snickers, and with a running start helped her into the trailer

that would transport her to Harvest Homes in Howard’s Grove. We all piled into

the truck as Becky ran up to the house and grabbed Smoochie, the pet ferret who

would make the visit with us.

As we rode the few miles into town, the girls handed out leis to Becky and

me. Smoochie also received a lei for around his neck. Becky explained, “I like

involving the kids when taking Snickers on a visit. It is a good experience for

them, as well as a bonus for the residents.”

When we arrived at Harvest Homes, Snickers made his way off the trailer.

The final touches of three colorful leis were placed around her neck, and a tropical

beach towel placed upon her back.

There was a small deck off the front of the home, and I wondered silently,

how will Snickers manage to get up that step? She had no problem at all. I giggled

as she clippity-clopped across the wooden boards of the deck. Becky knocked on

the door, pulled it open, and Snickers poked her head through the opening. It was a

sight to see this horse peeking looking through the door!

Once we were inside the tiny living room everyone clapped. The residents

were sitting in a half circle eagerly awaiting their visit from Snickers. I could not

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help but laugh to see this miniature horse that now looked so tall inside the small

space. Ever so gently and calmly she made her way around the room for everyone

to pet her. The residents were curious about this small horse, asking many

questions. One woman said it brought fond memories back of when she had horses.

A few moments later a woman came walking from her room. She said,

“Well, holy cow! Is that a horse?” She smiled the biggest smile, pet Snickers, and

then went out for her morning walk. When she returned she said, “Can I ride her

back to my room?” Everyone laughed.

As we drove home, Becky recalled one memorable visit. She said, “There

was a resident that was mentally handicapped and the staff said he probably would

not respond to Snickers.” She did not let that stop her from trying to reach out to

this woman. She took the woman’s hand and gently placed it on Snickers neck.

Becky said, “The woman came alive with the biggest smile ever.”

I asked Becky what made her decide to do this with Snickers. She said, “One

morning I just had an epiphany to do this therapy work.” So she followed her heart

and in the process has found it immensely rewarding. No doubt she and her family,

along with Snickers, are providing what the world needs most, which is love.

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THE SILLY NAMES WE CALL OUR PETS

It seems that when you love someone, nicknames are inevitable. I believe

it’s a way in which we express our deepest affection for those we share our lives

with, especially if they happen to wear a garment of fur and bark or meow.

As our seven-month-old Lab, Kylie, eases into our home, new names for her

have sprung from our tongues in no time at all. We also coddle and coo over her as

if she is a human newborn baby. It is in those moments that the nicknames seem to

magically happen.

As Kylie began to grow and no longer looked like a puppy, but not yet a

grown dog, my husband started calling her Mini Lab. It fits her to a “T” right now

because she looks like a miniature version of a Labrador. I think to myself, “If only

she would stay this way!” Mini Lab was then shortened to Mini, and yet another

name sprung from that one and she became Little. That then became Little Lamb.

To be completely effective the nicknames are not said in the voice of a

grown-up and how we should speak. It’s as if we have become munchkins and our

voices go up quite a few octaves. At the end of the day, her name shortens to Ky.

This happens when we are simply too tired to say, “Kylie, no!” which happens a

thousand times a day with a puppy! It’s as if we will simply collapse onto the floor

in complete exhaustion if we have to call her by her full name one more time. As

Kylie got older, she developed more names such as, Coopa Ky, Coops, Big Lug,

Lellow, Coopster, and Big Ol’ Bear. That is it for now. Well, at least I think so.

How do all of these nicknames happen? Are we losing our marbles?

I began to wonder if we were the only crazy ones. So I sent out an SOS of

sorts asking for feedback from my friends and family. Not to imply that my friends

and family are crazy, but I was so relieved to find out that my husband and I are

quite “normal” in this nickname phenomenon.

What a delight it was to read other names and how they came to be. Some

names speak for themselves while others could not be mentioned. After all, this is

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a respectable story! But I sure loved the chuckles the nicknames brought me.

Breed: Vizsla

Birth Name: Penny

Nicknames:

Penos – A funny way to say Penny in a loving and kind way.

Stinky – Do we need an explanation for this? (I think not.)

Breed: Vizsla

Birth Name: Cooper

Nicknames:

Dupes – He has a carefree disposition as if to say, “Who me?”

Cooper-Dee-Duper – A version of Barney the purple dinosaur’s exclamation of

“Super-Dee-

Duper.”

Coopy – It seems that sometimes names just need to end in the letter “y” because

then the dogs listen better. (Does this really work?)

Breed: Coonhound Mix

Birth Name: Maddy

Nicknames:

Huckleberry and Elvis – After all, she ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog!

Breed: Schnauzer

Birth Name: Nikita

Nicknames:

Tiny Hiney – She has a very small frame and compared to the other two

schnauzers in the household she has the tiniest hiney her human has ever seen.

Breed: Goldendoodle

Birth Name: Abie

Nicknames:

Little Princess – She definitely thinks that world revolves around her. (I have one

of those too so could relate to this one.)

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Breed: Goldendoodle

Birth Name: Wilson

Nicknames:

Mr. Wilson and Big Fella

Breed: Cockapoo

Birth Name: Lacy

Nicknames:

Wiener Dog – For a cockapoo, she is kind of long. While out walking one day,

Lacy’s owners’ grandson saw a dachshund. He asked what kind of dog it was.

The lady told him it was a wiener dog. He pointed at Lacy and said, “That

doesn’t look like my Lacy Girl!” (Out of the mouths of babes. I especially liked

this one.)

Breed: Yorkshire Terrier/Maltese Mix

Birth Name: Charley

Nicknames:

Charley Barley – Just because it rhymes. (Simple enough!)

Charles Snufelopogus – He sniffs and snorts at everything.

Charles Dickens – This is reserved for those rare moments when he is naughty.

Snickerdoodle – His coloring looks like a snickerdoodle cookie.

Mr. Snausage – His body is compact and solid. (On a side note, I know Charley

personally, since he is my mom’s dog. My nickname for him is Chuck. It

reminds me of Peppermint Patty, from Peanuts, and the way she always called

Charlie Brown, Chuck.

Breed: Sheltie

Birth Name: Quincey Roo

Nicknames:

Roo – As a puppy he would jump and hop and looked like a kangaroo. (Other

nicknames are puppy Dog, Roo-Burger, and most recently since he is aging,

we call him Old Man.)

Breed: Miniature Schnauzer

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Birth Name: Shirley (She was given this name at the humane society, but now

her name is

Allie.)

Nicknames:

Rallie Cat – A friend called her that and it just stuck.

Allison – This is for those times her human companion is mad at her.

Sweet Pea – I love this nickname and often call my dachshund this name too.

Breed: Boston Terrier

Birthname: Muggsy

Nicknames:

Moose – Because he is so big!

Breed: Boston Terrier

Birthname: Maggy

Nicknames:

Little One and Terror

Breed: Miniature Dachshund

Birthname: Kirby

Nicknames:

Wiener, Low Rider, Hot-Dog, Lil’ Black Sausage, Pooper, Lil’ Bow-Wow, Kirbs,

Smokie Joe, and Lil’ Weenie. (And two others that I could not mention!)

Last, but not least, I share my other dog, Frankie, who is nationally known as the

“Walk ‘N Roll Dog” because she is in a dog wheelchair and the star of two

children’s books. But she too, can’t escape the many names we have come up with

for her.

Breed: Miniature Dachshund (though she is actually in between a standard and

miniature size at 14 lbs., so she is called a “tweenie.”)

Birth Name: Francesca

Nicknames: Frankie, Ween Spean, Frankster, Ms. Frankie, Sweet Pea, Baby Dog,

Schuts Butts, Peanut, Mrs. Beasley, Cuddle Bug, Love Dove, and Little One.

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A special thank you to everyone who shared his or her pet’s nicknames; I don’t

feel so alone in my craziness anymore. I’ve realized that we come up with

nicknames for our beloved pets because we love them so much and sometimes this

is just our way of trying to convey to them how much they truly mean to us.

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HOSPICE PLUS THERAPY DOGS EQUALS GOLDEN MOMENTS

Hospice was the last place on my list of places I wanted to volunteer with

my therapy dog, Frankie. I wanted to get my feet wet first and experience this kind

of work in a senior assisted home and hospital setting.

The perception of being a volunteer in hospice is that it is depressing. Some

may wonder why someone would want to surround themselves with people who

are dying. Hospice and therapy dogs have intrigued me ever since I read the book

by Jon Katz, Izzy and Lenore, Two Dogs, an Unexpected Journey and Me. Jon

writes about his visits to hospice patients with his two dogs, Izzy and Lenore. The

unique bond that took place between patients and the dogs was deeply emotional

and often palpable. It was sad when the patient died but, at the same time it was the

connection that forms that had me feeling this was something indescribable taking

place; a feeling that could only be felt if one truly experienced it.

Though I find hospice work fascinating, I set the idea of volunteering aside

until I felt ready. To prepare myself, we began visiting Libby’s House, Senior

Assisted Facility, as well as the local hospital. Some of my most joyous times in

life are during these visits, because sharing Frankie with those that are lonely or

sick fills my heart with warmth I’ve never known before.

One day I received a call from my friend, LuAnn. She volunteers with her

dog, Sophie at Sharon S. Richardson Hospice (SSR).

She told me an elderly married couple named Mary and Tom were staying

together in one of the suites at SSR. Tom had just passed away.

Months before I had donated several copies of my book Frankie the Walk ‘N

Roll Dog to SSR in hopes it would help children when visiting.

LuAnn said, “Mary and Tom read your book together. Mary would love to

meet Frankie.” What a lovely image I thought of in my mind of the older couple

reading Frankie’s story together.

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LuAnn said, “We need to visit soon as Mary is preparing to move back

home.”

Though I was a bit apprehensive about what to expect, I put my feelings

aside. It was important to me to do this for Mary, who was grieving the loss of her

beloved husband. If we could bring a little joy to her life at this difficult time, it

was something I felt compelled to do.

I was nervous driving to hospice that warm fall morning. Driving into the

parking lot and seeing the grounds in full autumn bloom, I felt this wondrous peace

wash over me. Walking through the front doors, I felt I was walking on sacred

ground. It may seem strange, but it was one of the most tranquil feelings I have

ever had.

LuAnn met us at the front door. She said, “I told Mary a very special guest

was coming to see her today. She has no idea it is Frankie.” I smiled.

As Frankie rolled down the hallway, it was as if she knew where she was

going. When we got to Mary’s doorway, Frankie rolled right into the room. I saw

Mary sitting in a chair gazing out her window as if in a reflective state. She had a

slight smile on her face. As Mary heard us approach, she turned and seeing Frankie

her smile grew bigger. She clasped her hands in front of her and said, “I prayed I

would get to meet Frankie and here you are!”

She opened her arms to me, and I leaned over, she gave me a big hug. Then

she lavished love onto Frankie. Mary told me over and over how much we made

her day. To see her face light up in the midst of losing the love her of life, was just

as much a gift to me. To see Frankie brought some joy to her as Mary was in the

depth of grief gave my heart a jolt of what making a difference means.

Meeting Mary was the push I needed. I knew this was something I wanted to

experience more. As I said goodbye, I knew I’d be back again soon.

Frankie gives me the confidence to walk into rooms of complete strangers,

knowing they are transitioning. I realize this may be the only time we meet them,

or we could also develop a friendship. I’ve learned to accept whatever the outcome

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is to be.

I’ve also learned by observing Frankie not to be judgmental, listen more than

I speak, and cherish each person we encounter. It is an honor and privilege to be a

part of someone’s last days or months. I’ve also learned that hospice is not about

dying, but rather living. No matter what point someone is at, each breath and

moment here is precious.

There are many outstanding therapy dog teams that volunteer at SSR

Hospice. In writing this story, I asked some of them to share their thoughts about

why they volunteer.

Nancy, the leader of the monthly therapy dog meetings wrote a truly special

poem about what her dog Stuart has taught her about hospice. The part that

particularly moved me is: “Sometimes it is about that golden moment than it is

about anything else. When Stuart prances in and goes to work, everything changes.

That golden moment of distraction, those with the least strength light up, lean

forward, smile boldly and come fully to life…and it is a different world. It is an

overwhelming feeling, and you can’t imagine it if you have not been there.”

Jayne said, “I realized it was very selfish of me not to share all the love and

joy Magic

has to give to others.” Magic is her standard poodle. She told me people often

comment on what a big beautiful dog he is. Jayne said, “Magic has changed more

than one person’s mindset about “foo foo” poodles. When someone meets Magic

he is a regal, proud poodle. To know Magic is like truly experiencing the magic

love of a dog.”

The magic of all dogs in the environment of hospice is something one

simply cannot grasp unless personally experienced. Being a part of this community

with Frankie, for me, has me wanting to reach out more, and care more, and

ultimately experience more golden moments. For in those moments, it is when the

meaning of life comes full circle.

The names of the hospice patients have been changed to protect their privacy.

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Pardon me, is that a cowboy?

It was with zealous anticipation that I made a trip to Milwaukee a few

months ago. As I traveled along on a sunny fall afternoon, my heart was full of

hope. I was eager to witness again the positive effect animals have on us. The bond

I share with my animals is highly rewarding, and it is a desire of mine to share that

feeling with others.

I made my way closer to the Tommy Thompson Center and wondered about

meeting Mary and her dog named Cowboy. Mary and I had connected via the

electronic world of e-mail a few weeks before. As I drove into the parking lot, I

only had a description of make and model of Mary’s vehicle. My eyes darted

around the parking lot and locked immediately on a fine-looking colossus yellow

Labrador. His large square head hung out the car window while his snout pointed

towards the orange glowing sky taking in the crisp fall fragrance. My mouth

quickly turned up at both corners and reached beyond my ears. A dog can always

bring a smile to my face and a warm fuzzy to my heart. I knew this must be

Cowboy.

I introduced myself to Mary and was instantly at ease by her gentle and kind

smile, warm eyes and carefree spirit. As she lifted the hatch open on the back of

her car, Cowboy greeted me with the softest brown liquid eyes and licked my

hands. He had a smile only a dog can smile. My heart beat an extra thump at the

same moment the thud of his tail beat against the interior of the car. I asked Mary

how she came up with the name Cowboy. I had expected to hear some connection

to a cowboy or character she knew and loved. Instead, she said, “I adopted

Cowboy from the Humane Society, and that was the name he had.” She did not

know at the time she could change his name, so she kept it. Simple as that, but in

meeting this masculine beautiful creature, his name was most appropriate.

Cowboy was ready to spread some love and joy as only dogs can do. With

all his strength, he pulled Mary to the door while I made sure to keep up with the

pace of this gentle giant. We entered the Tommy Thompson Center, which had

become a makeshift home for hurricane Katrina survivors.

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Cowboy led the way to downstairs and a recreation area for the families. As

Cowboy’s snout rounded the corner, the rest of his strong body followed. Shrieks

of delight came from children as they rapidly approached us. Their little faces lit

up bright as evening stars as they started to pet Cowboy. Then came what comes so

naturally to children and questions about this large fur ball began to emerge. “What

kind of dog is Cowboy?” “How old is he?” “How big will he get?” “What does he

like to eat?” “Does he like to play games?”

Mary patiently answered each of their questions adding that Cowboy loves

to chase squirrels. She said, “His ears perk up and his snout will immediately hit

the ground the minute he hears the word squirrel.” Well, that was all the kids

needed to hear to start saying the word squirrel over and over to Cowboy. His ears

twitched back and forth every time the children said squirrel. He was off on to a

hunt for a squirrel that did not exist.

As I watched the interaction between the children and Cowboy, I knew I was

witnessing the magic that only a dog can bring to a human life. Those tiny beings

had their lives uprooted, and the pure pleasure of the moment with Cowboy washes

away any feelings of sadness and despair.

Cowboy is a trained animal assisted therapy dog. His work is to provide

comfort and love to those in need. Mary and Cowboy passed a test to qualify for

this work. Trained therapy dogs visit nursing homes, hospitals, hospice patients,

schools and prisons, just to name a few. In recent years, they are also helping those

going through physical and occupational therapy. In my recent research, I have

learned that animals can lower blood pressure and stress levels, which amazed me.

Some doctors will prescribe a dog to surviving heart attack patients. Studies have

shown having an animal in your life helps people live longer. Animals are amazing

healers!

I drove home that star-filled evening with a sense of overwhelming pride for

what animals give us. It made me think about the word dog and how when turned

around it is God. Just as God accepts and forgives our faults so does a dog. I

believe it is no coincidence they are called dogs.

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TUCKER’S TALE

As I start writing this month’s article, my cat Dani sits perched on the ledge

of my office window. She seems in a trance by the jumbo fluffy snowflakes

descending ever so lightly from the sky. Her internal motor chugs along with a

steady beat as she watches life go by from the inside, out.

Many cats have come and gone in my life. Each one of them had a distinct

personality. While dogs will do all they can to please us, a cat tends to make the

rules, and we must abide by them. I have not yet figured out how they have trained

me to do that, but I go with the flow so I do not ruffle any fur.

Before Dani, I had a cat that started life with an amusing tale—this kitty is

the little girl I had always wanted. I named her Ms. Elle.

Three days after getting her, my husband John and I were lazily laying in

bed on a Saturday morning. Ms. Elle was lying on her back, stretching and

relishing in the warmth of her new home. As I glanced down, I thought I saw

something that should not be there. I looked to John, and I said, “Are those what I

think they are?”

As he nodded his head I shrieked, “Oh no! I wanted a little girl!” Sure

enough, Ms. Elle was a boy.

John always seems to have a clever answer and this time proved to be no

different as he said, “You will now have to call her Mr. Ed.”

The next day “Mr. Ed” had a scheduled appointment at the vet for a

checkup. Still not believing she could actually be a he, I asked the vet for

confirmation. The vet lifted the kitty in the air and stated most clearly, “Yes, those

are testicles.”

I had wanted a female so bad. I said, “Are you sure?”

The look the vet gave me made me realize I was not dealing with reality.

Heading home, I grieved the loss of Ms. Elle.

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The next task at hand was to come up with a new name. This cat would be

permanently scarred if I continued to call him by a dainty name. A few days later,

waking up to this spunky pistol of a fur ball, standing bow-legged in front of me,

the name Tucker popped into my head.

Tucker grew into a strikingly handsome chap with his shiny coat of striped

black and tan. He went with the flow of life while living with a gentle chocolate

Labrador and a boisterous Dachshund. Tucker spent most mornings peering out the

patio door watching the birds hop along the top of the deck railing. His ears would

lay flat against his head as he chattered away as if telling those birds to move along

for the day. After a few hours, he would saunter to a cozy sun spot, curl up and

sleep the rest of the afternoon. Ah yes, the rough life of a cat.

While vacationing on the tropical island of Key West a few years ago, John

and I pondered the question: “What does Tucker do while we are away?” As we

sipped Mai Tai’s, basking in the warmth of the Florida sun, we began to create a

story.

We imagined Tucker absolutely thrilled to have the whole house to himself.

He would not have to contend with the dogs because they were staying at a nearby

kennel. Because Tucker is so laid back, we knew he probably had a wild side to

him, which only came out when we weren’t home. We envisioned Tucker calling

up his alley cat buddies the moment the tires rolled out of the driveway. He called

to let them know the folks just left, and it is time to party!

One by one, cats would slink to the back patio door of the little yellow

house. Three taps of their paw and a meow would allow them entrance. Once

inside it was dark and smoky. There were small round tables set up everywhere

with Tom cats sitting on chairs, smoking cigars and playing poker. Young scantily

dressed female cats were making the rounds with trays of drinks. Screeches of

meows could be heard when a poker round was won. We imagined Tucker is likely

known in the neighborhood as the King of poker! Our imaginations were probably

a bit tainted from the Mai Tai’s, but none the less, we enjoyed weaving a tale of

Tucker’s darker side.

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As we arrived home after a relaxing time away, we opened the front door to

find Dani curled up sleeping in his favorite spot. As I began unpacking, I laughed

to myself about the absurdity of Tucker playing poker and chuffing on a cigar. I

made my way into the living room, and noticed something on the floor, peeking

out from under the sofa—something most peculiar. Is that an Ace of spades and a

poker chip, I wondered?

35

STEVE & MAGGIE:

A LOVE STORY BETWEEN A MAN AND HIS DOG

I confess the thrill of the hunt is something I never understood. The hunt

between a man and his dog verses bird or any other animal is a mystery to me.

On an early January morning with temperatures as balmy as a spring day I

met Steve to hear the story of Maggie. Their story helped me better understand the

sport of hunting and the special bond formed between a man and his dog as

hunting partners.

Maggie and Steve’s story is one of determination, strength, integrity and

compassion. Steve is a man in the prime of his life with silver hair that reflects his

accomplishments as father, husband and provider. Maggie is a little over one year

old and is a yellow Labrador with strawberry highlights and luminous brown eyes

urging you to pet her.

Steve grew up without dogs, but after accompanying a friend and his dog on

a hunting expedition, he was hooked. He launched a mission to find a Lab that

could be a family dog as well as a hunter. Day after day Steve meticulously surfed

the Internet. He talked with many breeders via phone and e-mail explaining what

he wanted in a Lab. Some breeders felt a Lab could not be both a hunter and a dog

which could adapt to family life. Little did these breeders know Steve is a very

determined man. His search ended after hours of homework when he finally found

a breeder to meet his needs.

Maggie was born in July 2005. As soon as Maggie was weaned she was

released to her new home with Steve and his family.

She was a typical puppy learning everything a little pup needs to learn. At

seven months old, with great anticipation, Steve took Maggie out for her first hunt.

He said, “I was so excited about this day and years ahead of Maggie and me

hunting in the north woods.”

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The following day Maggie could not get up to walk. This continued for two

days. On the third day, she was walking, but with unusual stiffness in her hind legs.

Steve took her to the vet who thought Maggie might have hip dysplasia, but

those tests came back negative. Maggie’s hips were in excellent shape. The vet was

stumped, and Steve was referred to a specialist in Appleton. Within an hour of

arriving there, a devastating diagnosis was made. Maggie had severe

Ostecohondritis (OCD). This is a disease that primarily affects the shoulders in a

dog, not the hind legs as in Maggie’s case. OCD is characterized by cracks and

flaps in the joints cartilage, which cause inflammation, joint instability, pain,

lameness, and degenerative joint disease.

The vet recommended surgery. The goal of treatment with OCD is to

prevent further damage, relieve the pain, and increase mobility. The prognosis was

guarded, and there was no guarantee it would work if they decided to do the

surgery.

Maggie’s regular veterinarian, Dr. Bohn had only performed shoulder OCD

surgery and was new to rear leg OCD surgery, but was willing to give it a try.

Steve said, “It was the answer to my prayers.”

Steve and Maggie would be put to the test with a twelve week, three times a

day rehabilitation program. After the surgery, rehab began, and it was like teaching

Maggie to walk again. Steve is honest in his feelings. He said, “It was stressful and

demanding.”

Steve’s free time was filled with helping Maggie. He said, “I could not

have managed without the help of my lovely wife, Lisa.”

Every morning he got up early before work and ran Maggie through her

rehab exercises. The routine played out again as Steve went home during his lunch

hour, and the day ended with another round of rehab. The summer flew by as Steve

worked diligently with Maggie. At the end of twelve weeks, Steve started to lose

hope. Maggie was not improving.

Steve did not give up on Maggie. At the end of September, he took her out

37

to a field and worked with her in hunting format. He began with thirty minute

sessions and progressed in time each week as Maggie improved. That strategy

proved to be the missing link; Maggie’s desire to hunt gave her a purpose. After

that, her rehabilitation progress was amazing.

The big test came at the end of October when Steve’s family and friends

took a three-day hunting trip to Iowa. Steve was filled with mixed emotions of

anticipation and hope. Maggie’s determination came shining through, and the hunt

was a success. Not only in terms of catching game, but Maggie completed the hunt

with hardly any stiffness. She is a pioneer in her recovery and gives hope to other

dogs that may have to endure the diagnosis of OCD.

At the end of December, Steve and Maggie were in the north woods once

again. Fresh snow blanketed the ground as Maggie tracked grouse. Three hours

passed, and Maggie showed no signs of discomfort. Her goal was focused on the

task at hand, and she savored the hunt.

Steve and Maggie are a shining example of love a man has for his dog and

the love a dog has for the best friend who will never give up on her.

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THE DANCE OF A DOG’S DREAMS

The colors of burnt orange, golden yellow and fire red leaves on the trees

warm our days, while the crispness of autumn nights brings a chill to the air. As

the cool winds blow I think about snuggling close with my canine blanket made of

soft billowy fur.

Watching my eleven-month-old Labrador, Kylie, drift off to sleep always

brings a smile to my face and touches a spot in my heart. To know she feels safe

and secure within our home gives me a sense of pride to know I provide her with

this comfort.

Have you ever pondered the question: What do dogs dream while they are

sleeping? Some may question whether or not dogs really think, or have emotions,

let alone, dream. I believe without a doubt that they feel things in some capacity. It

may not be on the same level as we humans can relate, but I believe there is

something that goes on inside those furry heads of theirs.

It is in the moment that Kylie is sound asleep that I take a big breath and

relax. All her antics of the day run through my head, which can sometimes make

my blood pressure rise. Puppies can be a lot of work. But they also bring so much

joy which I am reminded of as I look down at her. As I see her so relaxed in her

sleep, all the frustrations of the day are washed away.

One evening as I sat next to Kylie and watched her drift off into dreamland I

felt such intense, deep love, for this little ball of fur. I began to daydream and put

together in my head a little piece about watching her drift off to sleep, and

imagining her dreams.

Your young muscular body of strawberry blonde fur is stretched out on the

hardwood floor in the hearth of our home. The expression, “puppy dog eyes” fits

your face to a “T.” Your brown eyes begin to become half-mast, but your youthful

instinct fights to remain awake. You don’t want to miss a minute of anything.

Short blonde whiskers stick out of your snout, reminding me of a pincushion. Each

tiny, delicate, wispy whisker precisely placed.

39

The dance of your dream begins with the twitching of your nose and you

remind me of Samantha from the 60s show Bewitched. Your paws and limbs then

join in and you begin a waltz as you move to the rhythm of chasing that elusive

rascally rabbit through a field of golden wheat.

Your soft ears, which I lovingly refer to as floppy flaps, twitch back and

forth, as if you are chasing a rabbit and you are thinking, “Duh, which way did the

rabbit go?” You start to pick up the pace into a fast dance when all four limbs

begin to jerk wildly as the chase is in full speed. You are furiously running after

the rabbit of your dreams. I place my hand upon your chest and feel the elevated

thumping of your heart. Then as the rabbit escapes into some brush, the beat of

your body begins to slow as you realize the rabbit is long gone. The thrill of the

hunt has ended.

You are out of breath and move into a slow dance as you find your way to a

cool place in the shade. Your tired body feels the softness of baby green grass

beneath your mitts and the warm sun penetrates your silky fur. You melt into the

earth and welcome the song of deep sleep as you drift from the dance floor.

Quiet notes of snores begin to escape as you sing a song of gratification and

happiness. As the depths of slumber find you, a deep long roaring snore crescendos

and makes its way through your nose; a nose that looks like it is made of the finest

leather.

As you lie so still and relaxed, my admiration and love for you is so

incredibly strong that I am at a loss of words to adequately describe the intensity

my heart feels. As I gaze at your sweet face I wonder where you really drift off to

in your dreams. And in those moments my wish for you is to always live in

complete bliss and that no harm will ever come your way. Sweet dreams, my little

friend. Sweet dreams.

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Contact Information

Barbara Techel is the award-award winning author of Frankie,

the Walk ‘N Roll Dog children’s book series. When her dachshund, Frankie,

suffered a spinal injury, Barbara had her custom-fitted for a wheelchair. Frankie

persevered, and Barbara realized the beautiful opportunity she had to share Frankie

and give others hope and inspiration to be the best they can be. Along with sharing

Frankie’s story with children, Barbara and Frankie routinely volunteer as a therapy

dog team at a local senior assisted facility and hospice community, spreading joy

wherever they go. They have also made over 350 appearances in Wisconsin as well

as numerous visits via Skype across the US and Canada.

Barbara and Frankie’s story is featured in Dogs and the Women Who Love Them:

“Extraordinary True Stories of Love, Healing, and Inspiration” published by New

World Library. This book was recommended by Oprah’s O Magazine in

November 2010. Their story has also appeared in Every Dog Has a Gift by Rachel

McPherson, published by Tarcher (Division of Penguin). Frankie’s story of a

special bond with a little boy named Jackson also appears in a book called,

Animals and the Kids Who Love Them by New World Library.

Barbara and Frankie have also been featured in Woman’s World, The American

Dog, and Dog Living magazine, as well as numerous blogs and websites. Barbara’s

series have won many awards including awards from USA Book News and Dog

Writer’s Association of America.

Barbara is active as author, publisher, educator, speaker, and volunteer promoting

the message that all disabled animals can live quality lives if given a chance. She is

also passionate about helping all ages see their challenges in a positive way.

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Watch for Barbara’s new book coming 2013: Through Frankie’s Eyes: One

Woman’s Journey to Her Authentic Self and the Dog on Wheels Who Led the Way.

You can visit Barbara and Frankie at their website http://www.joyfulpaws.com.

Barbara and Frankie love to hear from their readers so feel free to email them at

barb@joyfulpaws.com.

You can find Barbara on:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/joyfulpaws

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/joyfulpaws

LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/in/barbaratechel

You can find Frankie on:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/frankiethewalknrolldog

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/walknrolldog

Books by Barbara Techel:

Through Frankie’s Eyes: One Woman’s Journey to her Authentic Self, and the Dog

on Wheels Who Led the Way

Children’s Books

Frankie the Walk ‘N Roll Dog

Frankie the Walk ‘N Roll Therapy Dog Visits Libby’s House

Frankie the Walk ‘N Roll Dog Coloring and Paper Doll Activity Book

Books can be found at http://joyfulpaws.com/books/, Amazon, Barnes and Noble,

or ordered from your favorite independent bookstore.

Class Act: Sell More Books Through School and Library Author Appearances

Can be ordered from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or ordered from your favorite

independent bookstore.

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Share this Book

Did you like these stories? Which one was your favorite? I’d love to hear from

you. Feel free to email me at barb@joyfulpaws.com

Please feel free to share with your friends or have them visit my website and sign

up for my newsletter to receive their own copy for free.

I’d also appreciate a review and that can be submitted on Amazon.

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