A Little Boy's Best Friend

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not an avid animal lover.  Unlike many of my friends, I've never considered a dog to be my best friend.  Yes, they're cute.  Yes, they're fun.  Yes, I love them more when they belong to someone else.  You know, just like many people feel about kids:  love 'em but don't want any.  So needless to say, I wasn't all too happy when I was out-voted 2 years ago and a dog was brought into our home.  We got Taz (an appropriate name, by the way) when he was 4 months old and already potty trained (that was a plus), but I still felt resentment over the fact that I was the one cleaning up after the dog.  I was the one feeding him and making sure he had water.  And I was the one always, always, always covered in dog hair because for some strange reason, his fur only attached itself to my clothes.  Enter frustration and resentment.  

All that changed about 2 months ago when Taz practically saved my little boy's life.

Luke is 3 1/2 and has Down Syndrome.  He's a wonderful boy, and we love him dearly, but as is the case with a lot of children with special needs, he doesn't always understand danger.  The hot stove looks inviting.  The dryer might be fun to crawl into and hang out for a while.  Those knives?  Wonder what they do?  And an open door to the outside world?  Well now you're just asking for trouble.  One Friday morning in March, my husband was taking our 4-year-old to preschool.  They walked out through the garage and climbed in my husband's Tahoe.  My husband cranked up the vehicle but then began to do something on his phone, so they didn't pull out of the driveway right away.  I didn't realize it, but our older son had left the back door wide open, and before I knew it, Taz had bolted out the door.  We've had this problem with him since he was a puppy---running out an open door and down the street, usually with me running behind him screaming for him to come back---and we had paid a lot of money for a trainer to work with him and get him to stop bolting.  So I was furious when I saw him run out the door.  I ran after him, thinking that I would beat him if I caught him, and then I noticed something strange.  He didn't run down the street like he would normally do.  Instead, he ran over behind my husband's truck and just sat down.  Still angry, I followed him, and when I got behind the truck, I saw Luke.  Just standing behind his daddy's vehicle, for whatever reason, just hanging out.  And Taz was right there with him.  

I never even saw Luke walk outside, and I shudder to think what may have happened if Taz had not gone out after him that day.  Maybe my husband would have put the car in reverse and checked the backup camera and seen our child.  Maybe not.  But I can tell you this--I think Taz saved his life.  I think Taz knew to follow Luke, knew that he shouldn't be outside unsupervised, knew to protect him.  

Now Taz is my best friend.  And all the dog hair on my clothes doesn't even bother me anymore.