I believe the future is just a stop-gap measure. - L. Oliver Bright
When I was six years old, I stood in my front yard and watched my best friend Bill run into the street and get hit by a car. My best friend Bill was the cutest little dog ever! He was jet black – all over. Even his eyes were black. And so sparkly! We played in the yard all day. When my mother called us for lunch, we’d go in and I always shared whatever I had with Bill. He especially liked baloney sandwiches. Bill was a good dog. He never went out of the yard, but this one day, we were playing ball and I threw it a little too hard and it went over the fence and into the road. Bill chased it and ran right into the path of a car. That night, my father sat by my bed struggling to say something to make me stop crying. “You’ll have lots of other dogs,” he said. “As time passes, your memories of Bill will fade and you might even forget all about him.” I always thought my dad was the smartest man in the world, but he was wrong about that. I never forgot Bill! How could I?
The summer before I got my first dog, I visited my paternal grandparents. My Aunt Margie, who was in her teens, had a boyfriend named – you guessed it – Bill. I fell in love with him! I don’t know exactly how old my aunt was but I was convinced she’d soon marry Bill and I’d get to call him “Uncle Bill.” That didn’t happen. And I never forgave her! So when I went back home and my dad brought an adorable little black puppy home and said we could keep him, I immediately said, “His name is Bill!”
My dad was right about one thing. I did have many dogs after Bill. And I loved them all, but somehow, I think your first dog must be like your first love. No matter how many come after, you never forget your first.
- Peggy Toney Horton
"The wife I love" has become "the Wi Fi I love." This is progress? – Jenny Harp