The P.A.

A weekly address from Patrick Adams,
President of St. Louis Community Credit Union

I’m Lucky To Have A Dog Like Lucky

On June 6th, 2011, posted in: Uncategorized by 1 Comment

Have I ever told you about my dog?  Lucky is his name.  As a puppy, we rescued him from an animal shelter – the name seemed appropriate.  To call him a mutt is probably giving mutts everywhere a bad name.  What breed is considered to be the smartest dog?  Lucky is at the opposite end of the meter.  His resume of tricks includes…let’s see…er…none.  We were asked to leave obedience training.  You get the idea.  This pitiful pooch has little to no redeeming value, unless of course you consider that he loves me unconditionally.  At that point, his value skyrockets.

He eats like he’s never seen food before, and makes a ton of noise doing it.  He makes a lot of noise when he sleeps, as well.  He loves his belly rubbed, ice cream, coffee (yes, coffee) and barbecue potato chips.  (So far, he sounds like me).    He is leash trained, if leash trained means that when we put a leash on him he runs to the end of it and pulls his master’s shoulder out of socket.  We don’t take Lucky for walks; Lucky takes us for a drag.

He eats dog food, people food, cat food, fish food and “wild game.” Yep, he got him a mole one time, a frog, and (I think) a chipmunk.  The list of people Lucky likes is pretty short.  He likes me, his momma, our four kids, Miss Pat, her son Tommy, our ex-neighbors Brian & Jenny, Mom-mom & Dad-dad, and that’s it.  If you’re name doesn’t appear on this list, you fall into the category of “wild game.”

“The Luckster” is now 13 years old.  That’s 91 in dog years.  As a result, he has slowed considerably.  He’s got a bad leg that he tore up in a sprint along the fence line at Miss Pat’s.  As accidents happen, he was acting stupid and paid for it.  Essentially, he now has three legs, and arthritis in all of them.  He can’t hear much anymore, and we’re not sure he sees much either.  He’s gotten fat, his whiskers are gray, and he’s got a few less teeth than the full compliment.  (Uh-oh, sounds like me again).

He loves me and his momma no matter what.  In the morning, he loves to give kisses.  It’s like he’s thrilled that he’s alive and, as a result, he wants to celebrate. When we walk in from work, he loves us like (maybe just maybe) we weren’t going to return.  With Lucky, we’ve never been late; our timing is always perfect.  He never questions “what happened?”  He’s just happy – man, he’s happy.  I’ve learned a lot about life from this crazy canine.  He’s taught me patience, compassion, tolerance and love – the unconditional kind.

Look, the stupid dog isn’t going to live forever.  I thought I’d give him some props; very little props, but props nevertheless.  I hope you enjoyed meeting him through the written word.  God knows you couldn’t meet him in person.  He’d try to eat you.

You may ask: what’s the point to this blog? Nothing.  Just tired of all the serious stuff that occupies most of all the other blogs.  Every once in awhile, you just gotta chill!

One Response to “I’m Lucky To Have A Dog Like Lucky”

  • Eileen says:

    Sounds like he's smarter than you think.  He gets fed, walked, sometimes loved in return, even his belly scratched and doesn't have to deal with the economy at all.  Rates and regulations don't keep him up at night!

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