One day she was here. The next day she was gone. A week later you came home with a funny smelling box. I think that was my sister, but I couldn’t be sure. You let me sniff it for a little while and then you put it away. For those of you who have had dogs who grew up together, you know that we don’t all go to the rainbow bridge at the same time. One pooch usually travels before the other. Calliope was fourteen, a lot older than I am. She had a lot of problems with her teeth. Sometimes you added a lot of water to her food to make it easier for her, especially after she had teeth removed. I don’t think she had too many left. You called her Twinks and put a Chanel bow in her hair. Maija, one of your girlfriends, loved her very much and made a big fuss over her when we all walked together.

I came into her life long after she was part of our household. She was shy, “reactive,” and smelled of old things I find along the beach. When I was a puppy, I tried to steal her food, but she told me immediately her bowl was off limits. I admired her for that. I have kept my nose out of her food ever since. When it came to important things like food and treats, she let me know what she wanted

People asked me if I miss her. It’s hard to explain to you how we were together. When we drove to California, I took up a lot of space in the back of the car and she usually curled up next to me. Every once in awhile, she would put her head on my back, very gently, but mostly she kept her distance if she could. We shared the same dining space, but were very, very different kinds of dogs. I am an extrovert. She is an introvert. (Remember, I have a very large vocabulary.) It may have looked like we weren’t paying attention to each other. She didn’t talk to me much. She barely wagged her tail at me, but when I came home from my many adventures being a therapy dog, wagging my tail like mad and jumping around and leaping into the air as usual, she was at the door looking quietly at me, telling me she was still my elder no matter how many exciting people pet me. After a quick, sneaky, sidelong sniff to find out where I had been, she resumed her spot in a curled up position under the dining room table, away from everybody.

When I was off doing a job, I liked knowing she was home taking care of business. Before she didn’t come home, she took her walks separately because she was slow and couldn’t go further than around the block. She received her daily meals, her pets, our walks together around the neighborhood without nagging, not like me. She accepted everything with love. She taught me gratitude and acceptance. I am grateful she was my sister, and I accept that she is no longer with us.

Hello again, I am working to get this post to you.

This is Oliver again after a long time. I am going to try to stay in touch despite some technical difficulties. I have been storing up so many stories and I have had you in mind for a long time, but have been afraid to write because for many months all my words were swallowed up in some kind of strange Nowhere Land. I am still very much alive.

I am going to send this out as a second trial, first to my mother, then we’ll see what happens.

OLIVER’S ADVICE: NEVER GIVE UP.

My life is never quiet, but I have been on duty for the last month, so I haven’t had a lot of time to let my public know what I’ve been doing. Some of you have been wondering when you would hear from me. I am back.

I have kept up with my usual activity of shoe stealing and patrolling the neighborhood from my perch on the lake. However, my main job has been to watch over you as you recover from yet another surgery, this one on your right hip. You are already taking me for walks, me on your left and a walking pole on the right. We are a fabulous team-you and I. l am very proud of us. You tell me to walk slowly and I mind you. I am so incredibly well-behaved, especially when you keep me on a short leash.

We have had lots of company. Friends have brought flowers and cards and food. I love our friends.

In just a few weeks, I am back on duty at three schools…Kenwood Elementary, Southwest High School, and the University of Minnesota. I can’t wait to see everyone and to let them pet me. We are also going to try our luck at the airport. It may be too much commotion for me. (In case you want to know, other words for commotion are brouhaha, hoopla and tumult. My goal is to expand your vocabulary as well as mine). So, as I was saying, we are going to try the airport too. Oh, dog! That could be a lot of fun. I will have many stories. Stay tuned.

How did I spend my birthday? I had a beautiful day. I didn’t have cake or candles, but I did have special time with my favorite dog walker named Raven. I have grown up a lot in the last year. I don’t cry and carry on when she leaves me. I know she will come and go a lot, and I accept that. You and Raven and I went for a long walk down a long country road and I got hot and thirsty.

I spent part of my day with two of my favorite little girls. They are twins, aged seven years old. When they first met me, they gave me my best toy ever. It is a green rubber tug toy. We tug and pull and nobody wins. I have a chair that I had never sat on until my birthday. This is a photograph of me and Verona, one of the twins. Marcelle is the other. I love them both very much. They love me back. You read Little Women to them, and I try to see how many pages you will read before they jump up and run after me. Oh, dog, do we have fun!!!

I am five years old now. I am not a puppy anymore. But, I am not fully mature either. I will probably always love to steal socks and shoes and other things. You chase me. I run away, and it is the best game ever.

Tonight was the Perseid meteor shower. You lay out on the dock and looked up at the stars and oohed and aahed at the long, bright meteor tails. I stayed inside on the porch and listened to you.

It was a very happy day since friends are what make birthdays special.

Oliver’s Advice: Keep hooking me up with wonderful friends. It makes me happier than cake would.

This is my last of three episodes of IS THERE SUCH A THING AS A BAD DOG? I hope by now you know this is a rhetorical question.

Do you remember I have a large vocabulary?
Rhetorical means I shouldn’t have to bark more than once for you to understand.

So here it is, my most recent thoughts on the above subject. But, don’t think for one minute that I am done barking. I could go on and on. You must be as patient as I am because I have so many other things to do that I can only write these ideas down every ten days or so.

Paw Three: Influence? When we go to Occidental College in Los Angeles (I get around), the students like my hairdo so much they try to imitate it. You tell them my man-bun is to keep the hair out of my eyes so I can look at you and you can look at me and we can smell love. They think it’s to make me look cute. No way. It’s only to let us see each other, eye to eye, so we can both be good. At Carlson School of Management, grown men in suits get down on the floor in the atrium to stroke my hair. They have all kinds of stress, but petting me is all that counts at that very moment. I get into that special dreamy spot in my brain that makes me lie down and be petted because it feels so good. I meditate on the state of being a peaceful therapy dog. A yogi man named Ram Dass wrote a book called Be Here Now. I saw you reading this book for many days over and over, and I put a paw on your arm to ask why you weren’t walking me and you told me all about Ram Dass. You know I can’t read, so you told me Rami Dami is a writer and a deep thinker like I am.

On the job, when we do our therapy, some people don’t speak at all. They just sit down next to me, close their eyes and run their fingers through my long black and white hair. I like that the best.

When we’re out walking, if I regress into my natural, ancestral self and want to chase and herd, you need to remind me, We must be mindful. Slow down! You tell me Don’t pull! because sometimes you break if you fall down like when you broke your leg, and another time, your elbow, and another time, your foot, and each time you break, you have to be on those terrible metal crutches.

We both are learning to be more mindful. I have to slow down, but so do you. I know you want to run and chase too, but you are getting too old. So we work on it. I like it when you play the piano for me. Chopin, Gershwin, Bach. You told me your first Beardie rested his chin on your foot pedal. I rest my foot on the rung of the dining room table. When you light a candle at dawn and put it in the bay window, I settle down on the window seat and we both close our eyes.

I think about someone petting me, slowly and gently. I try not to think about racing around after chicken bones and delicious smelling shoes. Maybe you think about where you and I are going next. When we are finished, the sun has risen over the lake. Our quiet time together is better than any book. And it’s free! Except for the candle.

Oliver’s advice: Now you know as much about goodness and badness as I know—three paws. I kept one paw out for balance. Relax and pet me a lot. Keep me away from temptation. Think about our minds. If I mind you and you mind me, together we are mindful. It’s the best kind of meditation. We are both good. No one can get hurt. If you follow my advice, I will be as good a dog as I know how to be. We will feel wonderful.