The Story of Willow

I never considered myself a dog person until Easter morning 13 years ago, when Susan and I saw our newly born Australian Shepherd puppy and named him Resurrection. Then began the lessons in unconditional love. When “Rezzy” died last July, I said that was it. We’d had the perfect dog experience, no need to do it again.

Then we went to the shelter and met Dolly. She was a mixed breed, very shy and standoffish, “afraid of men in hats,” we were told. We took her home for a sleep-over and took a chance on love again. On the way home from adoption we noticed her coat was the same color as the weeping willow in January. We renamed her “Willow” and the name stuck.

Now we are stuck on her—sweet on a girl with honey-blonde eyelashes. Of course the adoption story has two sides. As hard as it was for her first family to give her up, she was a gift to us. With some handholding by the shelter staff and clicker training with Leslie Liddle, we soon became a pack, I mean a family. At the dog park, she is the one running like the wind. At home, she’s the one curled up on our bed. On the job, she’s in charge of the truck. No worries—you can keep your hat on.  – David Densmore