A little dog named Dewey
Whether we are in splendid health or are seriously ill, our lives have moments of delight. Here is a story that will illustrate that fact.
In 2010, a little schnoodle dog was rescued from a snow bank in Greensboro. A schnoodle is a combination of poodle and schnauzer. It was estimated that he was 13 years old, had lost many of his teeth and had a heart murmur, so the dog pound administration decided he should be put down. But before this happened, a wonderful family said they would keep him until an adoptive parent could be found. Days went by, then weeks, then months. No one would adopt him.
Dr. Jean French, who lives at The Cedars in Chapel Hill, found out about the dog on the internet. She called the family who were keeping the dog. They verified the story: They still had the little dog. Then a remarkable thing happened. Jean told them that since no one else would take him, she would adopt him, sight unseen.
The foster family delivered him to Jean’s apartment. He has been with her ever since.
His name is Dewey. He has been with Jean for three years. He has thick, black hair, weighs about 16 pounds and is cute as a button. He had serious problems with his teeth, so some more of them had to be removed. When she first got Dewey, he barked a lot, but as his health problems were dealt with, he quieted down. He no longer barks at all because of his heart murmur and breathing problems.
He has a lot of spunk and is absolutely unafraid when he goes up to other dogs. He is able to figure things out extremely well – a canine Einstein. He is very friendly, lively, and loves to be taken outside. He walks with a sprightly, bouncy and energetic pace. Jean is unsteady on her feet, so she needs to have others take Dewey outside and walk him. Jean found a person to walk Dewey three times a week and I also walked him about three times a week. He would cheer up the people we met while we were walking.
After about two years, I became ill, so I did not see Dewey for nine months. Recently I went to Jean’s apartment to see Dewey. I wondered if he would remember me.
I rang the bell and Jean opened the door. Dewey was behind her, peeking at me from behind her legs.
“Look at his tail wagging!” exclaimed Jean. He remembered me!.
I went into her apartment and sat down. He came right up to me, pressing against my leg. If I stopped petting him, he would nuzzle me. After awhile, the little dog went to sleep with his head on my foot.
Over the years of my life, as a boy scout, swimmer, soldier, table tennis player, lawyer, mentor and judge, I have received a few awards.
None of them were more precious than when Dewey went to sleep with his head on my foot.