Dogs.  Poop.  Not me.  I’m allergic.  But then my grandsons got a dog, a big smelly slobbering lumbering mass of fur.  And because I love them, I’ve become the walker of Woodrow the Wonder Dog.  

Woodrow is a show stopper.  165 pounds of ambiguous ancestry.  Passersby can’t help but comment.   “That’s a big dog! What kind is he?”“Are you walking him or is he walking you?”  “Hey lady you need a license to have a horse in the city!” 

Woodrow is super curious  Detective Woodrow sniffs the shrubs for bunnies and squirrels like any dog would.  But Woodrow also keeps an eye on changes in the neighborhood.  He’s well known by workers engaged in everything from tree cutting to road construction.  He especially likes to watch them eat their lunch.

Woodrow is powerful. He could knock you over with a swipe of his tail. It hurts when he steps on your toe  In the winter, he’s a sled dog mushing through the snow as I boot ski behind.  

But what really makes Woodrow a wonder dog is that he’s a really good listener.  He never interrupts or changes the subject.  He beams at me with his loving big brown eyes and patiently bears witness to my complaints and confessions.  

I pick up his poop in gratitude.  Yes, I do.  

And Woodrow forgives me for never petting him.