Walking on a nature path near my home this morning, I spot a "senior" gentleman pushing a baby stroller and slowly moving toward me.
But, what got my attention was the cutest Basset Hound puppy on a leash trotting alongside the stroller. It was love at first sight! Especially since I once had a Basset named Wilbur.
The man introduced me to Daisy and she obligingly rolled over on her back so I could rub her warm puppy tummy. The gentleman and I talked for about 10 minutes about how he'd lost his 19-year-old beagle in April and still wasn't over it (evidenced by the tears in his eyes). I chimed in about our 16-year-old mix, Molly and how we were struggling with the "inevitable."
We exchanged good-byes and continued on separate paths. I still had a smile on my face thinking of Daisy when I stopped and realized in horror that I not only hadn't asked about his grandchild sitting quietly in the stroller, I didn't even know if it was a boy or girl!!
What kind of grandparent am I?? The woofie-loving kind, I guess.
To read a story about Wilbur, read WOOF: Women Only Over Fifty
Mary Cunningham (Milkbone)
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