Hello Steve, I agree. Iv had 2 guide dogs and pet dogs az a kid and I know just what that doctor and cab driver is saying. This is most deafinately a keeper. Thanks for sharing. Original message: > Fifteen Minutes of Fame > I dashed out an exit at O'Hare International Airport in Chicago and ran > towards a waiting cab. I was greeted by a cab driver with a > three-day-old beard, an old baseball cap and arms the size of tree > trunks. As he tossed my bags into the trunk, he spotted my luggage tags > and said, "What kind of doctor are you?" > "A veterinarian," I said. Instantly, his grizzled face broke into a > smile. This happens to veterinarians all the time, as people love to > talk about their pets. > The doors slammed, he put the car into gear and hit me with this > opening salvo, "My wife claims I love my toy poodle Missy more than I > love her. Just once, she wants me to be as excited to see her as I am > Missy. But Doc, it ain't gonna happen. Ya see, when I get home from a > long day in the cab, dead tired, I open the door and there are the two > of them looking at me, Ma and Missy. Ma has a scowl on her face and is > ready to tear into me. Missy, on the other hand, is shaking all over, > she's that happy - her face is grinning so wide, she could eat a banana > sideways. Now who do you think I'm going to run to?" > I nodded my head in agreement because I understood his point only too > well. He loved his wife, but he simply wanted permission to savor his > fifteen minutes of fame. > Everybody gets fifteen minutes of fame once in his lifetime. We pet > owners get our fifteen minutes every time we come home - or even return > from the next room. > A few days after I saw the cab driver in Chicago, I returned home. I > was tired from my travels and looking forward to seeing my family. > Pulling into the driveway, I peered through the windshield, straining > to catch a glimpse of my loved ones. My two children, Mikkel and Lex, > are very close to good ol' dad, but I didn't see their faces pressed > against the window looking for me. Nor did my beloved wife, Teresa, > come running in super slow motion across the yard, arms open wide ready > to embrace me. > But I didn't despair. I knew I was still wanted, a Hollywood > heartthrob, hometown hero to my two dogs: Scooter, a wire haired fox > terrier, and, Sirloin, a black Labrador retriever! > As soon as I exited the pickup, Sirloin and Scooter charged to meet me. > Their love-filled eyes danced with excitement, and their tail > turbochargers whipped them into a delighted frenzy of fur. > Was this affection-connection routine, or ho-hum for me? Was I cool, > calm and collected? > Heck no. I turned into a blithering idiot as I got out of my truck and > rushed to meet the hairy-princess, Scooter, and Sirloin, the fur-king. > There I stood, all these false layers stripped away, masks removed and > performances canceled. It was my true self. Extra pounds, bad-hair day, > angry people, travel strains, no matter. Scooter and Sirloin came to > the emotional rescue and allowed me to drink in the sheer love and joy > of the moment. I was drunk with contentment. > I was glad this took place in the privacy of my own home. What happened > next might have spoiled my polished professional image. I immediately > smiled, and raised my voice an octave or two, exclaiming, "Sirloin, yuz > is daaaaddy's boy, aren't ya?" > And, "Scooter have you been a good girl today? Yeah, you have, you've > been a goooood girl!!" > They responded by turning inside out with delight, pressing themselves > against my legs and talking to me. I felt as if I could tap directly > into their wellspring of positive, healing energy. Gee, it was great to > be home! > I bounded up the steps to find the rest of the family, heart open, > stress gone and spirits restored by my fifteen minutes of fame.
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