"I am not really a dog person, you know," that is what I always told my wife's dog, Harley. I would tell him that when I had to walk him, or had to feed him, or had to chase him around when he escaped. I used to call him Marley, but I slowly realized I could hardly call him by a demeaning nickname.
Harley was a purebred golden retriever, he had a pleasant disposition, Harley had the innocent heart and limitless energy of a puppy. He had no tail, he had lost it in a horrible accident when he was two. He wasn't good at tricks but he liked to play ball. Harley, did have a dignified side, he was very quiet, Harley did not believe in barking just to be annoying.
Harley viewed me as his pack mate. Where ever I went, he usually followed, he loved my old beaten up car, and the area under my desk most of all. I am not a dog person, but I liked Harley. Sometimes in life you get blessings you don't really ask for- or deserve.
|Harley and Jason were pups at the same time.|