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Morning Walk
From Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Hilarious, Heroic, Human Dog
By D. B. Zane My little dog — a heartbeat at my feet.
~Edith Wharton I awoke early one Sunday morning, as I often did. The house was quiet. Only my faithful Airedale Terrier, Willie, was awake. He and I were both three years old. Large even by Airedale standards, Willie weighed at least four times as much as I did. "I bet you're hungry," I said to him, tired of sitting on the floor stroking his side. I was going to be a grown-up and take care of the dog. So, I gave him his morning dog biscuit. "Good boy," I said. Willie wagged his tail. Sitting back on the floor with him, I felt pretty proud of myself. I might have been the youngest in the family, but I could still do things... like feed the dog. I smiled. My brothers had to let me do other things, too, like play blocks and cards with them, and read books. (Keep reading) | 