Gone to the dogs
I can remember it very well indeed. It was a gleaming lovely summer day. I was busy in the garden hanging up the washing. A car stopped just in front of the house. Our daughter alighted. At that time she had almost finished her studies in Liege. But she was not unaccompanied. With head held high he approached me. For the first I was speechless. Well, whom have you brought home? It was a large deer-brown dog which my daughter had saved from the animal home in Liege. There he was, standing there somewhat shy and gazing at me with faithful eyes. Formerly I had nothing to do with dogs but with this one, it was love at first sight.
My husband’s love for animals was until then very underdeveloped – even inexistent, so to speak. His motto was: No animal shall enter my home! It remained in force until the day when a cat with long hair and blue eyes strayed to us and decided to stay. It became our dear pussy for cuddling.
And then there was suddenly this dog, a Belgian Alsatian mixture whose name was Bobby. My husband was head over heels. In his youth he had owned an Alsatian too. Now he had Bobby. And Bobby had him. It did not, however, seem to be the cat’s cup of tea. Out of protest she moved out and stayed in the garage until her end. In the meantime our daughter had finished school, found a job and soon left home after that. The dog stayed with us. But Lydie always remained his saviour. When she came Bobby always staged an admirable and lasting dance of joy.
My husband taught Bobby everything a dog had to learn. The latter obeyed him in everything and followed him wherever he went, both becoming inseparable. Together they undertook long walks. Very often Bobby brought back a big stick from the woods with which he could play with my husband for hours on end. Bobby developed into a watchdog which safeguarded the premises and never ran off even without a fence. Only when the lady from the village came by with her white poodle would Bobby accompany both of them for a part of their way and then return home. Bobby was my husband’s hiking companion for many years until the walking tours became shorter owing to the fact that the dog became less agile and got problems with his hind legs.
Bobby never ran away but he was unable to be stopped when Love called. (He was of male gender). A little, black she-dog from the village had taken his fancy and although he was old and somewhat ill he was nevertheless attracted to her. Shortly afterwards Bobby died. This caused us all a lot of grief – especially my husband.
He had lost a faithful companion over many years.
Annemarie (Luxembourg)
I can remember it very well indeed. It was a gleaming lovely summer day. I was busy in the garden hanging up the washing. A car stopped just in front of the house. Our daughter alighted. At that time she had almost finished her studies in Liege. But she was not unaccompanied. With head held high he approached me. For the first I was speechless. Well, whom have you brought home? It was a large deer-brown dog which my daughter had saved from the animal home in Liege. There he was, standing there somewhat shy and gazing at me with faithful eyes. Formerly I had nothing to do with dogs but with this one, it was love at first sight.
My husband’s love for animals was until then very underdeveloped – even inexistent, so to speak. His motto was: No animal shall enter my home! It remained in force until the day when a cat with long hair and blue eyes strayed to us and decided to stay. It became our dear pussy for cuddling.
And then there was suddenly this dog, a Belgian Alsatian mixture whose name was Bobby. My husband was head over heels. In his youth he had owned an Alsatian too. Now he had Bobby. And Bobby had him. It did not, however, seem to be the cat’s cup of tea. Out of protest she moved out and stayed in the garage until her end. In the meantime our daughter had finished school, found a job and soon left home after that. The dog stayed with us. But Lydie always remained his saviour. When she came Bobby always staged an admirable and lasting dance of joy.
My husband taught Bobby everything a dog had to learn. The latter obeyed him in everything and followed him wherever he went, both becoming inseparable. Together they undertook long walks. Very often Bobby brought back a big stick from the woods with which he could play with my husband for hours on end. Bobby developed into a watchdog which safeguarded the premises and never ran off even without a fence. Only when the lady from the village came by with her white poodle would Bobby accompany both of them for a part of their way and then return home. Bobby was my husband’s hiking companion for many years until the walking tours became shorter owing to the fact that the dog became less agile and got problems with his hind legs.
Bobby never ran away but he was unable to be stopped when Love called. (He was of male gender). A little, black she-dog from the village had taken his fancy and although he was old and somewhat ill he was nevertheless attracted to her. Shortly afterwards Bobby died. This caused us all a lot of grief – especially my husband.
He had lost a faithful companion over many years.
Annemarie (Luxembourg)
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