Conversion

A perfect sentiment for a Sunday morning is rising in me, and it comes from knowing a *bunch* of people who felt compelled to send me the story copied below. Let it be noted, however, that I first read it several days ago on The Happy Hospitalist, site of one of the best medical bloggers around.

Where do I place on the continuum? Well, I *was* a fierce Dog Person, finding in the company of my pet canines a great joie de vivre and tremendous intelligence -- but, best of all, an enveloping love. Unfortunately, Fred is not keen on dogs and has a lifelong fascination with cats. And so it was that I found myself on the road to Damascus.

Fred + cats = something that defies description. The closest I can come is to say that a cat exposed to The Fredster begins to approximate dog behavior. He had Dobby sitting and fetching on command within a day. A regular Pied Piper, is Fred.

It might be a sad commentary to admit that we send each other emails, but please remember that we reside within the Tête de Hergé -- within the vast opulence of the living museum that is Marlinspike Hall -- and that we've resisted the modernizing impulse to install an intercom system. So there are times when I don't feel like rolling myself back to his suite of rooms, just as he feels too lazy to hoof it to mine.

After I read the "nap story" chez The Happy Hospitalist, I emailed it to Fred. I then checked my own incoming missives, only to find that he had copied it to me a few hours earlier. In recent months, he has been making noises about getting a dog, giving as a reason that he wants "as much love as possible" in his life.

Anyway, I received more copies in my inbox this morning, and so I pass it on to you, for so it seems decreed that we should see ourselves in this sweet, tired pooch.


An older, tired-looking dog wandered into my yard; I could tell
from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home and was
well taken care of.

He calmly came over to me, I gave him a few pats on his head;
he then followed me into my house, slowly walked down the
hall, curled up in the corner and fell asleep.

An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out.

The next day he was back, greeted me in my yard, walked inside and resumed
his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour. This continued off
and on for several weeks.

Curious I pinned a note to his collar: 'I would like to find out who the
owner of this wonderful sweet dog is and ask if you are aware that almost
every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap.'

The next day he arrived for his nap, with a different note pinned to his
collar: 'He lives in a home with 6 children, 2 under the age of 3 - he's
trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?'