Meet Archie, our 6-month-old Jack Russell Terrier. He’s the best family dog ever, and is learning how to co-exist with our big old cat Princess (keep a wide berth), and sleek black Luna Cat (some friendly sniffing allowed).
He watches the fish tank like it’s television; the fish don’t seem to mind. We’ve taught him to sit, fetch and tell us when he has to go outside. We’re working on “Stay.”
Archie isn’t a barker, but he has the widest, loudest yawn I’ve heard or seen from dog or human. It takes several of those long, alligator-mouth yawns and not a few minutes of hind-leg stretching before Archie’s ready to greet the day, and his breakfast.
He cries when anyone leaves the house–even though we’ve never left him alone–and it’s hard hearing his whimper behind the door when I leave for work. So yesterday, when I stayed home not feeling so hot, Archie was right there beside me, happy as could be.
We played with his favorite squeaky fox, napped and practiced “Stay.” I think he’d probably like me to “Stay” every day, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep him all to myself. Archie nursed me back to health (and work) with love and licks, my adorable new animal angel.
Longfellow's "Footsteps of Angels" was written after the death of his first wife.