HETH'S HIGHLAND LAD, a.k.a. "Laddie"

Originally, this Blog was called: "Lad A Dog". It struck to me that I would have to play secretary to my own dog, so I changed it.

It worked out quite nicely since Laddie declined the offer of the responsibility of having to write nonsense. He said that I could do that without any help at all as I do it so often.

Laddie is, as you might have guessed from his photograph, is a West Highland White Terror - oops!- I mean Terrier. [Small joke.] He has been a Service Dog for eight of his eleven years. He is also a Velcro Dog ... we are a Team and wherever I am, there he is. I am god; he is dog. That's the deal. It's always been that way with every dog I've owned, trained, worked with throughout my life.

I tell people that a dog is a dog until he bites you, then he is Mister Dog .

After the sudden death of the dog I'd owned before Laddie came into my life, everybody kept asking me, who had never been long without dogs and cats, if I was going to get another dog. "Not unless it weighs under two ounces," I joked.

It took another two years and an awful lot of research to narrow down a list of possible breeders and breeds that would be right for another canine companion, and for me.

A friend of mine had owned Westies and kept telling me how much fun" they were. I met my friend's Westie and took her out for walkies and examined Daisy very closely. I noticed her eyes. Something was not right. I brought her back to her home and informed my girlfriend, who herself could barely see as she was close to 90 years old herself, that she had better get Daisy to her Veterinarian immediately as I suspected that what I was looking at was cataracts. She hadn't noticed, but took Daisy back to her Breeder who had his Vet check her out and sure enough, she underwent eye surgery the following day and Daisy returned home about a month later, with clear eyes and in perfect health. Sadly, my friend died a few months later and Daisy was returned to her original breeder.

I had fallen for Daisy, which rather narrowed my list of a possible new companion to that one breed.

Laddie was from a litter of pups and I chose him basically for two reasons:

1) sound health, and 2) no less important, his temperament.

I hadn't wanted a male puppy as most of my dogs had been female, but he was the one.

I knew he was going to be 'a dog with a job', as were all my dogs, so he had to have an incorruptible temperament and be a follower, not a leader. There's only room for one of those in my life with dogs, and I am it. So while he was not 'showy', and maybe a little larger than the other pups, we actually chose each other.

It was the best choice I've ever made concerning dogs. He is spectacular in every way imaginable and a few I had never imagined. That's saying a whole lot because I've owned some superb and magnificent dogs in my life.

IT'S ALWAYS DARKEST BEFORE EVERYTHING GOES BLACK

It isn't even night, let alone dark and stormy. You can stand right here in my office and get a sunburn that will take you through the Fall. Not a cloud to be seen anywhere. From my window all I can see is a powder blue sky, the soft shadows of the afternoon sun playing playfully with the shot silk patterns of the vertical blinds onto the wall behind my massive red oak desk. I don't know whose bright idea this was, but I have a knotty feeling at the pit of my stomach that tells me I'm about to find out.

My faithful companion, Laddie, pipes up, "Can you write on the fly?"

Says I, "No, but I might be able to write about a fly. Will that do? While you're at it, Studmuffin, how about reaching over there and bringing me that pad of yellow legal sized paper, a ball point pen from the box over on the other desk and I might be able to fake it."

Laddie, "It sounds like too much work. I'm not a Retriever you know, I don't do 'fetch'," still being the Westie he is, he wanders over to pick up my pad and pen. Pad and pen in mouth, he drops them both on the floor next to my chair.
"O.K. What are you going to write about?" sitting by my chair head cocked to one side.

"You have to ask me that one? Just like you to ask the hard questions first."

Laddie, tail quivering, "Well, what are you going to write about? Maybe I can help you. I've got lots of ideas." I'm sure he has.

"Studmuffin, the most difficult part of writing anything is facing a blank page. This could take up a whole week before I find my way out of the dark and lay down my first sentence." Translation, I don't have an inkling where this is going, but it will go somewhere. Eventually.

Behind my chair I hear the sound of my office door opening. I smell the scent of Irish Spring soap. That can only mean one thing. "Hi, Hon. Am I disturbing you?" he Who Must Be Obeyed asks. "I could have sworn I heard voices coming from outside the door. Are you talking to somebody?" a tone just a smidgin too cheery for the dark cloud hanging inside my empty head as I grapple with my present writing dilemma.

"Was I talking to someone? No, dear. Everything is fine. Unless you want to count Laddie and Peter Proud who are here with me, I haven't heard them say anything. Have you ever?" I smile archly.

I've had quite enough with this for now. My train of thought is all shot anyway. Barefooted, with Laddie in tow, I quietly shuffle out of my office and close the door softly behind us.

"Laddie, let's go walkies. Maybe I will be able to clear my head and figure out a flight plan for this blogging stuff. We can talk on the way." Laddie is only too happy with this idea since he gets to meet all his friends and trees. Laddie is a true Naturalist--he loves everyone and everything and trees!