An Open Letter to Mikko McPuppers

By B. Lynn Goodwin.

On our first walk you rounded the corner with pride, and looked up to say, “See how well I do this? I don’t tug on the leash. I don’t even stop and sniff. Please take me home.” At that moment I decided we needed each other.

I took this photo of you on the grass by the pool before the lifeguards came out and before I realized dogs weren’t allowed at the pool. I had no idea it would become your author photo five years later when you became a columnist for Silver Rescue.

When I left you at Shampooches the first time, I was afraid you’d feel abandoned. You didn’t. When I came back a few hours later, you were groomed and gorgeous.

You were a fussy eater. You got up to 23 pounds because protein was leaking into your blood stream. You rejected the food intended to correct that problem. You didn’t care about medical issues. You cared about taste. Kibble helped. So did some pills Dr. Taylor prescribed. Ultimately you slimmed down to 15 pounds.

You held your own with your golden retriever cousins, Max and Rusty. Their size didn’t scare you. You knew you were the senior dog.

We considered taking Coco into our home, but you made it very clear that you were here first.

I trusted you and left you two together for a few hours, and found her a new home within 72 hours. You were relieved. Your eyes said, “Thanks for remembering I don’t need siblings. I’m an only dog.”

You were more generous when Warren left us his beloved Charlie, knowing we’d find him a good home. He was with us for 12 days while you wondered why he kept retrieving the same yellow tennis ball. You waited patiently. Somehow you knew he felt lost, and you respected that.

Editor Jan McDaniel made you a columnist for Silver Rescue. I am very proud of the columns you allowed me to transcribe. You survived a change of editors and continued to share your view of the world from 14 inches.

When Richard came to pick me up the first time, you sniffed, of course, but you didn’t growl. If you trusted him, that was good enough for me. He became your Uncle Daddy. He fed you from the table, and shooed you onto the patio when bodily functions became an issue.

You came with us when we eloped. You’d had a stroke ten days earlier and Richard knew I wouldn’t want to leave you. It’s not every dog that joins his Mommy and his Uncle Daddy on their honeymoon.

You were my LGG (Little Guy Guy), my Hundle Bundle, and my Luv-Luv. Never did a dog have more names. I loved you, I indulged you, and I know that on the other side you’re no longer struggling to walk and perform normal bodily functions. Instead, you’re walking with your tail high and sniffing heavenly flowers like the sweet little nose-noofer you are. Thank you for opening my heart.

Love,

Mommy