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The Life of Riley
From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Life Lessons from My Dog
By Lucy Wetherall Some of our greatest historical and artistic treasures we place with curators in museums; others we take for walks.
~Roger Caras I hear it first: the quiet huffing, Riley’s impatience growing. I open an eye to see his furry face beside the bed. He’s been my alarm clock every day for the twelve years he’s been with me. His cold, wet nose is pressed against the side of the bed. There’s an apologetic look in his eyes, like he understands it’s Saturday, and I don’t want to get out of bed. I know he won’t give up, so I reluctantly throw my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hitting the floor sends his tail into overdrive, wagging back and forth, making swishing noises on the carpet. He’s still in sit mode, trying his hardest to behave. “Let’s go.” It’s all I have to say to send him flying down the hall and racing down the stairs. He stops at the bottom, turning to make sure I’m coming. As I reach the bottom step and try to push the sleep from my brain, I realize that the first snow of the season has fallen overnight. (Keep reading) | 