Just so puppy noses aren’t put out of joint, I thought I’d introduce you to Wilson.
A few years ago, after a long long time with 3 dogs, I lost Baxter (19) and Clancy (17) which left me with my super special McDuff. Yet another rescue job (we met at Mt Druitt TAFE, when I was teaching there), Duff, the Duffer, Dufflepod, Duffarooni, brightened my life and the life of everyone who met him. A black and hairy mutt, he was the most loving and gentle soul. By a miracle, and largely thanks to my wonderful vet Bruce, Duff survived a spinal stroke and, like Baxter, lived to the ripe old age of 19.
Three months after we said goodbye I was coming home from the National SF Convention in Perth, desperately sick with what would prove to be swine flu (courtesy of some international attendees) – and all I could think of on the way home was I need a dog. I need a dog. I have to have a dog. Three months without one was all I could stand. Home at last from the airport, I dumped my bag, got in the car, and drove down the road to my local pet shop. And there I found Wilson. Since almost every dog and cat I’ve ever had has been a rescue, I let myself have this one. And I made a spectacular choice. Or maybe he chose me. Who knows? Wilson is a cheeky, scruffy bundle of love. As I think this photo will attest!