Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
So, I was looking for a re-print Post to er… post, today and thought, ‘hey! lets go get a previous August 11th post, because it would be relevant!’ (New Readers? I’m a clark, so there is a valid logic behind that thought process, it’s just that it’s kinda hard to explain. Unless, you’re a clark, but then, if that were the case, there would be no need to explain. Lets let it go at that, shall we?)
Much to my surprise, I found that there never has been a August 11th Post in all the time I’ve been writing the blog.
now there is.
The photo above is of our first dog, Ola. (As photos go, it is one of my two favorites. Both the one above and the one below tell you what kind of dog Ola was, her temperament, her intelligence, her attitude and, most of all, how she felt about being in a pack with Phyllis and me.)
She was everything good that dogs (can) be and she was everything that I could have hoped for in a life-form to love.
Funny. Of the Posts I’ve written over the years, the ones that are about Ola (or Bella or Una or, even Phyllis) are usually the Posts that generate comments from people who otherwise do not comment, they are comments about how wonderful a dog she must have been and how much I must have cared for her. And while nevertheless accurate, this ‘reflection of a relationship’, tells you more about me than I could ever tell you directly.
About clarkscottroger
The last photo…just hanging home with the pack…great…was she a Scott? Looking into the camera that way?
very much so (scottian in terms of how she (would appear to) relate herself to the world around her)
Both pictures make me smile widely. She was quite the wonderful canine. Although I did not know her well, as in living in close proximity and thereby seeing her frequently, she and I nonetheless had a special bond. I thought so anyway and I’m not often (if ever!) wrong when it comes to dogs and “knowing” them :)
So a favorite story for Z. Once upon a year, my sister and I took a road trip to RI from VA. We would stay at Ola’s house.
There were no humans at home when we arrived. Only Ola. Sis and I had been given the green light to go into the house and make ourselves at home until said humans returned from work. Sounded good to me.
As we were pulling into the driveway, the front of the house dead ahead, there came the sound of a mighty “roar”. There in the bay window, body straining against the back of the couch, barking wildly, was Ola. Excited to see us? Um, no, not from the sound of it.
From the look and “sound of it” we were strangers approaching an empty house guarded by a viscious, scary dog. Before I was able to get out of the van, my sister turned to me and nervously said “maybe we should just wait for them to come home. Ola sounds pretty scary and she’s never met me and it’s not like she knows you all that well. What if she doesn’t remember you?”
“Aw, don’t worry about” I said as we got out of the van. “She’ll remember me. She’s the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet”. No sooner had I spoken those words when the doggie in the window went missing and was now on the other side of the front door. Yup, that’s one guard sounding dog lol
“You go first” my sister nervously, half laughingly said. “O.K. I will. Ola will be fine. Don’t worry. You’ll love her.”
Sister behind me, I confidently reach for the door handle, turn, push, calling my canine friend’s name. In all of her scottian scariness, Ola comes bounding towards me…like a long lost friend…..
I had no doubt as to the ending! Wonderfully told too!
Definitely one of those “moments” :)
You two have a sister?
Yes. She’s the oldest. I’m the “baby” :)
Psst….she’s a roger.
I have been writing a lot about Ola recently. In so many ways our life as a “family unit” started with her. And, when I look at my successes and failures of life, my life has had meaning and purpose if for no other reason than my part of our family – Clark, the Progenitor, Ola the Protector, and Phyllis the Provider..
She was a good dog.
funny, I was writing something similar in the beginning of the process of writing the post.