STEPHANIE’S
CHIC ON THE CHEAP
CHRISTMAS BLING!

REGGIE – A BLACK LAB

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen.  The shelter was clean, no-kill and the people there were really friendly.

I’d only been in the area for 6 months, but everyone I met in the small college town were welcoming and open.  Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt.

Give me someone to talk to.  And I’d just seen Reggie on the local news.

The shelter said they’d received numerous calls, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like Lab people, whatever that meant.  They must’ve thought I did.

At first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things: which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all which were new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home.  We struggled for 2 weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home).

Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.  Maybe we were just too much alike.

Then I remembered the sealed envelope that came with Reggie.  I had totally forgotten about it.  “Okay, Reggie,” I said aloud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”

To Whomever gets my dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner.  I’m not even happy about writing it.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls!  The more the merrier.  Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel; the way he hoards them.  He usually always has 2 in his mouth and he tries to get a 3rd one in there.  Hasn’t done it yet.

Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so please be careful; don’t do it by any roads.

Next commands:
He knows the obvious ones, “sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”  He knows hand signals too.  He knows “ball” and “food” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

Feeding schedule:
Twice a day, regular store-bought stuff, the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots.  Be forewarned, Reggie hates the vet.  Good luck getting him in the car.  I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time.  He’s been with me his whole life.  He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can.  He sits well in the backseat and he doesn’t bark or complain.  He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you … his name’s not Reggie.  He’s a smart dog and he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt.  I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name.

But if someone is reading this … well, it means that his new owner should have his real name.  His real name is TANK.  Because that’s what I drive.  I told the shelter they couldn’t make “Reggie” available until they heard from my company commander.

You see, my folks are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could have left Tank with, and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq; that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption.

Luckily, my C.O. is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed.  He said he’d see to it personally.  And if you’re reading this, he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the past 6 years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.  And now I hope and pray that you will make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you as much as he loved me.  If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the U.S., then I am glad to have done so.

He is my example of service and love.  I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

Alright,  that’s enough.  I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off to the shelter.  Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that 3rd tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank.  Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight, every night — from me.
Thank you, Paul Mallory

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope.  Sure, I’d heard of Paul Mallory; everyone in town knew of him, even the new people like me.  Local kid, killed in Iraq a couple months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies.  Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.  The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes brightened.

“C’mere, boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor.  He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months.

“Tank,” I whispered.  His tail swished.  I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him.  I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank.  Just you and me.  Your old pal gave you to me.”  Tank reached up and licked my cheek.  “So whatdaya say we play some ball?”

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room.  And when he came back, he had 3 tennis balls in his mouth.

~ Courtesy and with permission poeticexpressions.co.uk
Thanks!  Mike and the Team

RECIPES!!

• (!)  Rotel, Cream CheeseSausage, Hash Brown Casserole – Epic breakfast steals the show!
• (!) Charcuterie cups – Grab + go + mingle!
• (!)  Espresso Martini with vanilla – Grab with your free hand and sip while mingling
• (!) Smoked Gruyere Cauliflower Gratin with Dijon Bread crumbs – just WOW!
• (!)  Brie Dauphinoise Potatoes — TDF!