I’m Really Not a Service Dog
Service dog? Not me! I’m a privileged pet.
I lay around on everything and sleep most of the day. I get two wonderful meals a day and have a fenced backyard all to myself to play in.
I also have my own soft kennel that zips up for privacy and all the toys and chew bones I want. After all, I will be nine years old this month and that’s a lot of years for a dog.
So, in my mind I think I’m a pet, but then I catch a scent of something, and I realize, I’m a dog with a purpose. I smell Christy’s blood sugar dropping and get right to work alerting her.
Working is a privilege for me, and I love having a job. It means I am with Christy twenty-four hours a day wherever she goes.
But Mom is planning for my future. She’s worried about my retirement one day when I will no longer be able to go with her in public and another dog will take my place. That’s why she got the annoying puppy to be my companion when I have to stay home one day so I won’t be lonely.
My young furry friend, Rocky, steals my chew bones and has ripped up all my stuffed toys.
Mom is trying to teach him basic manners, but he’s strong-willed.
So, I was just fooling you. After all, it is April 1st. Even though secretly inside I want to be a normal pet, I truly am a service dog who has a great handler thinking ahead for all our good.
Mom hopes I have a lot of years left in me to keep on working and so do I.
I sure miss Aidan. I wish he was closer so we could play again. He was very patient with me when I was an annoying pup like Rocky. Hopefully Rocky will grow out of it. Mom says I haven’t. She has even hired a trainer to train her to train me. woof-woof-woof (that’s me laughing…)
Ranger