Aww-ooh-wooh-wooh

I must’ve been around eight weeks old when the commotion began. There were a lot of strangers visiting and our caretakers were having plenty of conversations with them. All my brothers and sisters, including me, were allowed outside to run and play freely in the yard when someone visited. There were eight of us with all sorts of colors. My mom was black with curly hair and my dad was reddish gold with wavy hair.

In time, I learned that my mom was a Labradoodle, that’s half Labrador Retriever and half Poodle. It seemed like an odd mix, but she was very pretty. I also learned that my dad was a Golden Retriever. Boy was he a handsome one. I guess that made me an even odder mix, but I didn’t care. I was the lightest colored of the litter, which I thought made me stand out. I also learned—or figured out—that the strangers visiting were there to take us to go live with them. I didn’t really know what that meant, but it seemed like it could be a great adventure.

Later one Sunday afternoon, a family visited. I remember it well. It was a warm spring day, and the sun was shining. I heard them pull up the driveway and so I got myself ready, as ready as I could get.

There was a little girl and her parents that popped out of the car. The little girl was, I’m guessing, nine years old. She was so cute. She walked around the entire back yard speaking to each one of us and either holding or petting us. The mom was also petting us and picking us up. I’m not sure the dad wanted to be there, but he was nice.

I remembered thinking, if I’m going to get to go on an adventure, I need to get all three of them to notice me and on my side. My standout color isn’t enough.

About thirty minutes into their visit, it seemed that they were getting ready to leave, and all my brothers and sisters were off playing. I seized the moment. I noticed the dad standing just feet from me. I waddled over to him and dropped myself right between his feet. I curled up and said, “Pick me, pick me.”

The dad said, pointing at the mom and little girl, “Look here, this ain’t good.”

“Ain’t good? What do you mean?”

He bent over and picked me up and I snuggled right into his chest and arms. I heard the mom say, “Oh my gosh, look how cute. It looks like he’s picked us.”

The caretaker agreed, “He certainly has. His name is Willis. He’s so cute.”

“I did it, yes?”

The dad replied, “Looks like you’re coming with us, Willis.”

“Yes,” I replied, as I wished I knew how to fist-bump.

What a magical moment. I was going on an adventure. Yippee! I also felt like the dad understood me. That’s crazy though, I thought, I’m too young to talk.

The dad put me down and I curled up again between his feet, but then something strange happened—they left. They just left. I was very confused. I later learned that I wasn’t quite old enough to go on an adventure and that they would be coming back in a few weeks. I felt better.

Oh, the next few weeks dragged on. You can only play with your brothers and sisters for so long. I needed a new adventure.

Three weeks to the day, the family showed up. As they drove up the driveway, I knew it was them. We all met up in the back yard. The little girl picked me up and the mom and dad both patted my head. I was in my glory and ready to go.

The caretakers let me kiss my mom and they gave me a stuffed animal that smelled just like her. What a great parting gift.

We all piled in their car. The dad held me in his lap as we drove to their house, and I cried the entire trip. I’m not quite sure why I did that. Maybe not the best start to the journey, but the dad did his best to make me feel better.

I can’t lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I realized I was missing my family, but my new family was doing everything to make me feel better. I got a new bed, some new toys, a water bowl, and some pretty awesome food. My new dad let me sleep with him for the first couple of weeks, which was awesome. The only thing I didn’t like was being alone while everyone was off at school and work. I had to be penned up in the garage. It was a big pen, with a bed and blankets, but I still wasn’t happy about it. However, at the end of each afternoon, they’d all come home, and it was great. We played hard and I got some good shots at them with my razor-sharp teeth. It seemed like a fair tradeoff.

My first year was awesome. I grew a lot and nailed the potty-training thing. However, I did struggle a bit with eating things I shouldn’t have. My mom and dad did worry about me on more than one occasion, but I passed the items. Whew!

Into my second year, I’d developed into a yellow lab with a few petit features, and my tail curled up, which I thought was cool, but my dad…not so much. No matter, I kept attacking life. My dad told me once that he thought I was ‘faster than a speeding bullet.’ I guess he thought I ran fast. He was pretty fast himself, but I always won.

I always felt I was good about staying in my own yard, but there was one day when I screwed up really bad. You see, there was another local dog that roamed the community and she happened to come see me one day. We played in the yard for a good while when she just up and wondered off. Well, I followed her, and my dad was in the garage. So, he didn’t know where I went.

As I understand, he combed the neighborhood for several hours looking for me—and mom too. They were sick not knowing where I went. They walked door to door and for miles. My dad decided to get in his truck and drive rather than walk. He knew the other dog was a roamer and thought he’d have a better chance of finding me if he drove.

It was nothing short of a miracle that my dad found me. I was three miles from home and somehow ended up on the west side of the creek when I lived on the east side. He had spotted me in a farmer’s field some three hundred yards down the hill from the road. I never saw him pull into the field, but did hear him calling for me, after he got out of his truck. I stopped in my tracks and looked up the field. He kept calling and I eventually trotted toward him.

The closer I got, the angrier I could see he was and so I slowed to a walk. It was at that moment I realized I’d screwed up bad. I was covered in mud and may have rolled in something…like a dead animal. His truck tailgate was a tick higher than I could jump, so he ‘helped me’ up. Man, I screwed up, but I was more than happy he found me.

I spent the rest of the day in my cage in the garage, but I learned a valuable lesson. I never left the yard again, except when my dad said I could. The other dog continued to come around, but I never followed her again. It was better that way.

I always felt special with my family. I learned a lot of tricks like the one-paw fist-bump and the two-paw fist-bump. I learned that if I stared at my mom or dad, they’d eventually let me outside and I’d get a treat when I came back in. I could also get a treat if I sat and held my paw up for a period—and they thought they had me trained. I even slept in their bed sometimes and laid on the couch. I went where my dad pointed and when my mom asked if I was hungry, I ran for the kitchen. I also learned how to howl. At first, it seemed odd, but it was odder when my dad began to howl back. I guess we had developed our own language.

My dad eventually took down the cage in the garage and I was allowed to be home by myself. Well, most days. I guess it depended whether I stayed out of trouble.  

We had a pool and every time someone uncovered it, I was the first one in. I’d make one lap around and then lie in the sun. Life was great.

Sometimes I would think of my first family wondering what they were up to, but I couldn’t imagine their journey had been as magical as mine.

As the years went on, I never saw my dog friend again and the little girl had gone off to college. Good news, though, my mom and dad were still around. We were all getting older, and no one could run like we once had. I’d eventually lost interest in playing fetch, but it was no big deal because I still played with and tore up the occasional stuffed animal. You know, the indestructible ones.

My life was magical, just asked my dad.

As I entered my fifteenth year, I couldn’t get on the bed and was barely able to get up the steps to the kitchen, but if you watched my dad, you’d have thought he was older than me. One evening, we were all in the living room and I staggered over and laid between my dad’s feet. I groaned heavily and sighed and said, “Thank you for the magical journey. Aww-ooh-wooh-wooh.”

He reached down, rubbed my head, and replied, “Thank you, buddy. Thank you. Aww-ooh-wooh-wooh.”