Taking Matters into My Own Hands

By John TBK

When Bridget, our Saint Bernard puppy, was about a year old, my job was to walk her every night.  Bridget was still in her chewing stage and if we weren’t careful our 18 month old daughter’s little toys and belongings would be chewed up or would simply disappear.  The nighttime walk in the winter months in upstate New York was often very cold and wet and Bridget was a dawdler, sniffing and searching for the perfect location to do her business. We often walked along the edge of a nearby farmer’s field, which was one of Bridget’s favorite spots with its many earthy and animal scents.  One cold January night, the walk was taking much longer than usual, and when Bridget finally was satisfied with a spot, it seemed like it was taking forever, to complete the act.   I stepped behind her to see what the problem was, and there I saw the dangling, white cloth baby diaper.  Bridget was doing her best to move things along, but I could see it was going to be a long night.  I knew couldn’t leave her like that, or bring her home in that condition, so I bent down and gave Bridget a helping hand.

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