The Book Blog Tour is presented by Teddy Rose and .......
The next stop on the tour is: Mia Pragmatic Mom
I am pleased to bring you a guest post:
I read a lot. And not surprisingly, I read a lot of books about dogs. My favorite dog story this year is A Dog’s Purpose, by W. Bruce Cameron. In Cameron’s charming story, a dog goes through several lives exploring what his particular purpose is.
This made me think about the first dog we had when I was a child. He was a beagle from a distinguished line of hunting dogs. He was big for his breed and smart as they come. My uncle, who was a passionate hunter, bought him with high expectations of what Puck would be. My uncle also loved the plays of Shakespeare, so he named the dog Puck. Puck’s purpose was clear: he would be a fine hunting dog. My uncle, who loved training hunting dogs as much as the hunting itself, began Puck’s education. Everything went fine. Until the first time Puck heard the shotgun. He screamed in terror and took off as fast as his young beagle legs would carry him, which was pretty darned fast. Try as he might, my uncle could not convince Puck his purpose was to be a gun dog.
When my uncle left for medical school, he gave Puck to us. I was four years old, my sister seven. My mother loved dogs and my father loved every living thing. He was not a hunter. Puck quickly proved himself to be a wonderful nanny. We lived in a small beach town in Florida. Whenever we wanted to go anywhere with our friends without our parents, the rule was we had to take Puck. And not only did we have to take Puck, we had to mind him! If we tried to cross a street Puck deemed too busy, he’d block our way until the coast was clear. Twice he protected us from snakes. Once my sister cut her foot so badly she couldn’t walk home. Puck ran to our house, alerted my father, and led him to where my sister way. Lassie had nothing on Puck.
Several years later, when I was eight, my mother, sister and I had to move away. My father had died and my mother was left trying to support us. Where we were moving we couldn’t take Puck. Heartbroken, we gave Puck to my father’s parents who loved him every bit as much as we did. But what would Puck do without his girls to look after, we wondered.
Puck’s new purpose was to look after my grandparents. My grandfather Bill worked as an auto mechanic about a mile from the house. Every morning, Puck walked with my grandfather to work, hung out with the men while they drank coffee, ate their morning donuts, indulged in small-town gossip, then he’d come home. He’d accompany my grandmother as she did her errands. Everyone in town knew Puck. Then, in the late afternoon, he’d walk back to the garage and walk home with my grandfather Bill. As the years passed, my grandmother’s eyes grew worse and she became very nervous about the stairs that led from their apartment above a garage down to the outside. Puck would gently take her wrist in his mouth and slowly walk her down the stairs. After my grandfather suffered a stroke, he was paralyzed on his left side. Puck was with him every step of the way as my grandfather re-learned to walk and use his left hand.
Puck lived to a ripe old age. The whole town grieved, though, when he died. For years after, people talked about what a fine dog he was, even if he wasn’t cut out for his original “purpose.” I think like a lot of folks, Puck had a purpose deep inside him that had nothing to do with what others thought he should be. Puck’s purpose was to love and protect his family every day of his life. And that’s exactly what he did.
Now - the giveaway! Open to continental US and Canada only (sorry) - - you don't need to be a follower, but I would love it if you wanted to. You must be at least 13 years old to enter.
The prize is a print copy of A Dog's Way Home.
The book will be sent by the author or tour presenter - the giveaway ends on 10/12/11.
Please fill out the form below:
Thanks for stopping by The Wormhole! Happy Reading!