BEST OF FRIENDS--PAW WISE, ELIZABETH TOWLES [little readers .txt] 📗

Best of Friends—Paw Wise


Years ago, shortly after the Christmas season, a surprise guest was introduced to our family.
On the first Saturday of January, our fifteen-year-old son, Scott, brought home a fat, squirmy ball of fur-like hair. Scott’s face beamed as he offered his treasure to us. The treasure was an adorable three-week-old, bulldog puppy. We are sentimental dog lovers and pets have been an integral part of our family household for many years; and as John, my husband, and I took turns cuddling and petting her we agreed she was the cutest pup we had ever seen.
We laughed at the antics of this delightful creature. Her charm was irresistible. For instance, it was hilarious to watch her try to capture her tail that was long at this time of her life. She played around the kitchen, falling on the slippery floor and being quite the little show-off. Her ears, too, were long and flopped around her fat wrinkled face. She knew she was the center of attention—her mouth stayed open in a wide grin that added even more wrinkles as she gave her time happily to each of us.
As the afternoon sped by, Scott made no move to take the puppy home. At last he had no choice but to tell us the story. The mother had delivered two babies during the very cold month of December and in trying to keep her infants warm, she suffocated one of them. The neighbors who owned the older dog then separated them in order to keep the newborn safe. Since it was puppy love at first sight, they agreed to sell the remaining puppy to our son, so he brought her home.
This was a new turn of events. John and I told Scott that even though the puppy was adorable, we already had one dog we loved and didn’t need another pet. A question of compatibility also came into play: would Dobie, our Doberman, accept this little newcomer? If not, we would then have a really perplexing problem. John and I mulled this over for a short time. Between the hopeful look on our son’s face and the appealing puppy before us, we had only one choice to make.
We enclosed a small area in the kitchen, spread papers across the linoleum, and placed a water bowl and food dish in one corner. After much debating, we decided to name her Babe; and she did indeed become the family’s new baby. From Wal-Mart, we purchased a toy shaped like a hamburger and when Babe pounced upon it, a loud squealing sound delighted her. Soon other toys were bought to keep Babe entertained. Her level of activity and unlimited amount of energy challenged us to keep an alert eye on her whereabouts.
In a short period of time, Babe seemed to belong to John and me instead of to our son.
After Babe had shared the kitchen with us for a month, we decided to reclaim our eating area. We felt our newcomer had settled in adequately and she needed to adjust to new day and night-time locations.
Evenings, Dobie slept in the laundry room and during the day she was outdoors in the enclosed patio area. At one end of the enclosure, fourteen steps led up to an opened sun-deck that provided a view of the street, trees, people jogging or walking and of course, the biggest draw – a nice breeze or warm sunshine. It was a wonderful place to take long afternoon naps.
John and I decided the little one could claim the empty room during the day, but I would be Babe’s night-time temporary companion in an extra bedroom near Dobie’s sleeping quarters. For two weeks I slept in the downstairs bed-room while Babe, cozy in a warm woolen blanket, slept in a small box by the bedside. If she awoke at night, and she did at first, I quickly placed my hand on her warm furry body. This comforted her. Peace and quiet reigned once again.

When Babe was nine weeks old, John and I agreed it was time our pets were introduced. We were apprehensive, and anxious. John stood by, ready to grab the puppy at the first sign of any animosity from Dobie. Eye to eye, they waltzed around in a circle, this big dog and this very small puppy.
Gently, Dobie sniffed Babe, then, Babe licked Dobie’s face. We watched their initial tender gestures; each successful entreaty lessened our anxiety. After a few minutes their compatible interest in each other became obvious. Relieved, John and I shared a look; our pets had seemingly accepted each other with relative ease. Everything would be okay.
On the dogs’ first night together, John and I took turns checking on them. We wanted assurance that congenial terms still prevailed. Late into the night, we opened the door to a delightful surprise: Dobie had curled up in the small bed with Babe embraced gently between her long legs. Our pets had touched each other’s heart. We closed the door softly and raced up the stairs to our bedroom, giggling at each other like a couple of kids.

The next day John made a trip to the store to search for a bigger box for Dobie. Each pet would then have a nice place to sleep. John found the perfect large square box and placed it by Babe’s smaller one. The next morning, we discovered that Dobie had abandoned her bed in preference to sharing the small one with Babe. It seemed buddies had to be together—even while sleeping.
The two friends indulged in playful antics all day. Dobie never became annoyed with Babe’s unrelenting teasing. Evidently, Dobie realized Babe was a still a puppy and craved a lot of action. Babe followed Dobie’s every step, a constant shadow at all times. Our Doberman was a very smart and unique dog. Dobie taught Babe where and when to do her private thing. When Babe didn’t follow her lead, Dobie nudged the little one away as she began emptying her bladder in the wrong area. Soon Babe got the hang of it, although, occasionally she playfully teased Dobie with false attempts in forbidden spots. When Dobie rose to the bait, Babe jumped playfully aside just missing Dobie’s reprimand of a quick clamp of her teeth. John and I spent long stretches of time chuckling and gasping in awe as we watched the goings on between these two beloved family pets.

When Babe was six months old, our vet, Dr. Hawkins, bobbed her tail and reshaped her ears. John arrived home with the bandaged puppy. Dobie played nursemaid, watchful of Babe at all times. As we opened the laundry room door each morning, Dobie had Babe embraced between her legs, the healing areas carefully protected. When Babe’s binding tapes were removed, the dogs resumed their boundless frolicking.

The upper sun-deck provided an open-air environment where the dogs played, napped and sunned during the day. The steps, leading up to it, were a favorite playground.
The animals ran at break neck speed until reaching the upper level, only to flop down quickly, pant loudly, and lie with tongues hanging from their slobbering mouths. The patio was enclosed with a six-foot wooden fence, so the upper deck was their only source of a panoramic view. The boards were placed horizontally around posts, leaving open areas between their placements. This vacant space allowed a spacious view into the surrounding yard and street. Dobie and Babe became a familiar twosome peering out at anyone who happened to pass by.

One afternoon, Babe, being much smaller than Dobie, fell through one of the open areas. John and I rushed her to the vet. Babe had broken her right front leg. We berated each other for our lack of judgment in gauging the width of the spaces between the boards. When we brought Babe home, Dobie resumed the familiar nursemaid role of being protector of her friend once again. The motherly care Dobie displayed toward Babe was the topic of many of our conversations in the days to follow.

After several weeks, the cast was removed. Babe limped for a while, but was eventually her exuberant self. Dobie and Babe were inseparable and never away from each other. They seemed to value each other’s company with renewed vigor.

At night when John opened the back door and beckoned them in, they would wait for each other and enter together. If one decided the time was not suitable, the other would turn away also. It was a comical scene these two played time and time again.

Our pets provided us with many moments of hilarity. Early one morning after a long night of rain and snow mixed with sleet, John and I went to the laundry room to let the dogs out for their morning constitutional. Babe backed away from the opened door after feeling the brisk air and eyeing the sheet of ice covering the concrete slab. Dobie, unmindful of trouble, her thoughts only on the invitation to get out, stepped hastily out the door and immediately became a skater, minus the skates, as her feet slid across the wide area of solid ice. In flight, her body twisted around and came to a halt at the edge of the snow-covered grass with her face turned toward us. The look of amazement in her eyes was of such profound surprise that John and I burst out laughing. Dobie stood momentarily still before deciding to tend to personal business on the snow-covered