A Weimaraner World
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Since Stone the Weimaraner passed on, I have been warned by many people that I will see my best companion in the faces and mannerisms of other dogs. I have not found this advice to be true, but on Saturday at Woodley Park, the prophecy came very close to reality.
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It was Saturday in the Park with Petey. And Bobo. And Hercules.
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All are Weimaraners, and all frolicked in the park as part of the 16th Annual Weimaraner Festival presented by the Southland Weimaraner Club.
Events included a Weimaraner Health Exchange, where owners could swap stories of personal experiences with veterinarians, holistic healers, dog chiropractors, and canine acupuncturists. There was obedience training and a variety of games and activities for dogs and their owners, topped off with a potluck lunch and a rescue parade.
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I have found myself lonely and desolate when I see dogs these days, and when I leave the house I cannot help myself. I touch Stone’s box of ashes and his picture on my way out the door, and once again when I return. My neighbor told me the best medicine would be to get another dog. I can’t. I am still in the stage where I will never have another dog.
When I drove up to the festival Saturday, I felt a little uneasy. But then I saw the grey ghosts. Ten, twenty, thirty Stone-like creatures all barking and sniffing and cavorting. It was good therapy.
I also got to touch base with Diane Monahan, the fearless leader of Friends For Pets, the Weimaraner rescue organization that put us together with Stone. Diane is a force of nature, a miracle worker with dogs. She once told me that Stone became the dog he was meant to be when he came to live with us. What she really meant was that Stone changed our lives for the better. I can only hope that we repaid the favor, at least in part, during the two years he was a part of us.
Accompanying these words are some pictures I snapped on Saturday. The lone non-Weimaraner is Madeline, the subject of my previous entry. She is getting along well, a little stiff, but enjoying her treats and a day in the sun.
I once found a book mark with a quote that said: “The dog is a god of frolic.”
Indeed.
.jpg)
It was Saturday in the Park with Petey. And Bobo. And Hercules.
All are Weimaraners, and all frolicked in the park as part of the 16th Annual Weimaraner Festival presented by the Southland Weimaraner Club.
Events included a Weimaraner Health Exchange, where owners could swap stories of personal experiences with veterinarians, holistic healers, dog chiropractors, and canine acupuncturists. There was obedience training and a variety of games and activities for dogs and their owners, topped off with a potluck lunch and a rescue parade.
I have found myself lonely and desolate when I see dogs these days, and when I leave the house I cannot help myself. I touch Stone’s box of ashes and his picture on my way out the door, and once again when I return. My neighbor told me the best medicine would be to get another dog. I can’t. I am still in the stage where I will never have another dog.
When I drove up to the festival Saturday, I felt a little uneasy. But then I saw the grey ghosts. Ten, twenty, thirty Stone-like creatures all barking and sniffing and cavorting. It was good therapy.
I also got to touch base with Diane Monahan, the fearless leader of Friends For Pets, the Weimaraner rescue organization that put us together with Stone. Diane is a force of nature, a miracle worker with dogs. She once told me that Stone became the dog he was meant to be when he came to live with us. What she really meant was that Stone changed our lives for the better. I can only hope that we repaid the favor, at least in part, during the two years he was a part of us.
Accompanying these words are some pictures I snapped on Saturday. The lone non-Weimaraner is Madeline, the subject of my previous entry. She is getting along well, a little stiff, but enjoying her treats and a day in the sun.
I once found a book mark with a quote that said: “The dog is a god of frolic.”
Indeed.
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