The weather has been so lovely in Podunk that we left the front door to the office ajar. So, who could blame the well mannered springer spaniel when he sauntered in, made a beeline to me and sat directly on my left foot. As I admired his handsome bandana, I saw the tag that indicated he was a service dog. You say service dog, but I automatically think seeing eye dog, so I get up to see if any blind people are fumbling around in front of the office. Finding none, I go back to my seat and the pooch resumes sitting on my foot.
Now, I like animals well enough, but I’m not one of those people who goes crazy over anything with fur, making ridiculous baby noises and rubbing the animal with vigor. So, this dog’s insistence on leaning against my leg when my perfectly lovely and most likely more friendly co-workers sat just feet away from me. Clearly, the dog knew I needed an eye exam, I supposed, and made a mental note to get a checkup.
Finally, the spaniel’s owner poked her head in the office and spotted “Springer.” His owner Bonnie was not blind, as it turns out, but a feisty, evangelical cowgirl. Springer’s service specialty, she explained with her raspy smoker’s voice, was to help people die at the hospice house around the corner. Apparently, he has a knack for sensing death. Fantastic!
I jerked my foot away. Shoo, Springer, shoo.