Wally

Just in case you don't know about Wally, he's our guard dog. He's about 8 years old and showed up on Father's day in 2000. He's Marilyn's person. About all he needs me for is to let him back into the house after he's visited the back yard.

Wally reminds me of Oscar the Grouch. He's shaggy, unkempt, and has the disposition of a pit viper with people he does not know. When the idiot from the cabinet company showed up early and banging on the front door, Wally took issue with him opening the storm door to let himself in. Let's just leave it at saying the cabinet guy learned some humility that day. One thing in Wally's favor is that he's a great judge of character. The cabinet guy is/was a jerk.

For all his ferociousness, he's got the common flaw of most bullies. He's afraid of something silly. In his case it's thunder and lightning, which brings me to the other thing he needs me for. He hides under my feet when the clouds get vocal. If he could crawl into my pocket, I think he would. If the storm hits in the middle of the night, he'll retreat from his guard post at the foot of the bed and hide his head between the pillows.

Since I mentioned his guard post, I ought to tell you about how it varies with the relative positions of Marilyn and myself. He always puts himself between the front door and one or both of us. If Marilyn's in the living room and I'm downstairs, he's positioned in the front hall. At night he's always between us and the door.

Still, he's good people, loyal, tolerant of Violet and short people in general, loves Marilyn (I told you he was a good judge of character), and would take on a polar bear if he thought any of his folks were threatened.

I hope he's with us for a long time.