Chicken Soup for the Dog Lover's Soul Read Online Free PDF

husband. After a cursory sniff, he lost interest and began exploring the parking lot where we stood. We watched him, and I could tell Larry was impressed. He turned to me and said, “I want him.”
    I was surprised. We already had three dogs—an occupational hazard of volunteering at an animal shelter—and Larry often complained that the household dog population was too high. Plus, this dog was huge —it would be like adding two more dogs to our menagerie! But I didn’t argue; I was pleased that Larry wanted a dog for himself.
    So Beau joined our family. It wasn’t easy at first. He had physical problems that made it difficult for him to gain weight. He was too skinny, yet couldn’t digest any fats. His digestion was, to put it mildly, finicky. All that was certainly difficult, but his behavioral problems were even more troubling.
    To our dismay, we soon learned that Beau had been “reverse house-trained.” He consistently messed in the house and then stood by the door, waiting to go outside. We figured out that his first family had not given him regular opportunities to visit the great outdoors. Then, when he made the inevitable mess inside, they would get mad at him and throw him out the door. He was an intelligent dog and made the obvious connection: Go to the bathroom and then you get to go outside. We had quite a time convincing him it actually worked better the other way.
    But what was worse was his utter lack of interest in people. He loved the other dogs, but had no use for the two-legged members of his new family. In my experience, German shepherds were just like that. I thought of them as “big, impersonal dogs,” and didn’t feel hurt by Beau’s coldness. Not Larry. Hewas deeply disappointed by Beau’s aloof disinterest. It was the antithesis of his experience with Marc, whose devotion to Larry had been the stuff of family legend.
    Over time, Beau got the hang of being housebroken and established his place within our canine foursome. His physical problems also gradually cleared up, and he eventually tipped the scales at 108 pounds. He was such a handsome dog that people constantly stopped us in the street to comment on his beauty.
    Sometimes when I would see him lying sphinxlike in a patch of sun or running in the fields near our house, my breath would catch. He resembled a lion or some other majestic wild animal—his physical presence was simply magical. But still, his heart remained shut. He had no love to give to us. And when he looked at us, there was no spark of joy in his eyes. The lights were on, but no one was home.
    What could we do? We did our best to love him and hoped we might reach him someday.
    Then one day about four months after we got him, I glanced at Beau and was startled to see that he was following Larry closely with his large brown eyes. He seemed to be studying him—learning what actions signaled a chance to go for a ride or presented the possibility of a walk, treat or a scratch behind the ears. It was as if he suddenly realized that people had things to offer him— things that might not be half bad.
    His interest in all things Larry began to snowball. Swiftly, it became Beau’s mission to keep an eye on my husband at all times to make sure he didn’t miss any opportunities for doggy fun or excitement.
    Larry didn’t let him down. He knew what big dogs liked to do and where they liked to be scratched. He threw balls and sticks and took Beau to interesting places. Beau soon started whining if Larry left him behind. And when Larry finally returned from those solo jaunts, Beau was beside himself with joy. The floodgates of Beau’s love had opened. The dry disinterest fell away and his heart began to bloom.
    Today we call him Velcro Beau, because he sticks so close to Larry’s side. Every day when Beau wakes up, he stretches his long body luxuriously and then finds one of us to give him his morning rubdown. He lays his ears flat against his head and shyly pokes his large