His name is Ralphie - like the kid in the Christmas movie. We got him from a rescue, he had been neglected as a pup and abandoned - did not know how to play, was not trained, did not understand what toys were for, was afraid of other dogs, and did not wag is tail.
All he needed was someone to love him back - don't we all? In our house, he had a brother to play with, two laps to jump up on, 40 acres to run, a boat to carry him around the lake, a scooter and two cars to blow his ears back, and a mom who taught him to say "ma--ma" and gave him ice cream for treat. It took a year, but that little tail began to wag - never could teach him to retrieve a goose, but thank God for small favors.
He is old now and blind, and aside from occasionally barking at a wall, he spends most of his time sleeping. We open the front door, because Ralphie likes to sleep right at the threshold, where the breeze carries him back to the days where he ran like the wind and chased whatever moved and rolled in whatever didn't. And when he dreams by the front door, that little tail still wags. There is nothing I ever dream about that is worth more than that, so he is my photo for this week.