Dolly the Dog: A Lesson in Love

Dolly the dog was well loved by her owners. I’m not sure her feet ever touched the ground. She was always comfortably seated on one or the other of her owners’ laps, be it in the house or in the car.

A lovable beagle, Dolly was my in-laws’ second child in a way. She was definitely my father-in-law’s sidekick. They went everywhere together.

Her “parents” — Nelson and Iris — doted on Dolly, feeding her people food, followed by people ice cream on any given hot summer day. The three of them ate lunch out every day, with Dolly snoozing in the car, secure in the knowledge that a fried chicken breast would be forthcoming.

She was never taken for a walk. A ride? Certainly. But walking was up to her when Nelson would open the door and let her out to “do her business” like a good girl. Of course, she was rewarded handsomely with treats when she returned when called. If she got distracted by a bird or an interesting aroma, her “daddy” would have to raise his voice, indicating he meant business and she had better get herself back to the house posthaste. There was never any punishment, just a look of disapproval — and a treat that would make most veterinarians shudder.

Dolly was a friendly girl, welcoming visitors with an expectant look that said, “What did you bring me?” If nothing was forthcoming, she hopped into her man’s lap while he reached for a nearby treat so she wouldn’t feel left out. She would nap in his lap while he watched his evening television shows until it was time to go to bed, where her parents made room for her in their bed. Isn’t that where most well-loved dogs sleep?

In an earlier time, when Ol’ Bill was young Bill and we were dating, he and his parents had Aggie, a super-protective, territorial, hateful, yappy little dog. Obviously, Aggie and I did not hit it off. I was viewed as a threat to their happy little family, and she did her best to discourage my visits — snarling and baring her teeth, trying to look ferocious. I wasn’t afraid of her, much to her frustration, I’m sure. I just didn’t like her any more than she liked me.

I wasn’t a dog person and I was infringing on her territory. It was not a good combination. I can only imagine her relief when I walked out the door after any given visit. Aggie never did warm up to me, but I felt she resigned herself to my presence in her world, turning her back to me and retreating to a far bedroom until I left her house.

I was well established into the family when Dolly came along. She wasn’t particularly interested in me. She still preferred her “parents.” She certainly knew where her food came from and that — her family and her food — was her world. Hmm, maybe we had something in common after all.

I only know my son-in-law once quipped, “When I die, I want to come back as Dolly.” Dolly led a very happy, well-loved life. What more can anyone or any dog ask?

And now, after all these years, I feel a little sorry for poor old Aggie. Her life could have been happier if she would have let it — if she’d realized her people loved her and no interloper was going to change that.

I think there’s a lesson here for all of us.