‘The Dogs of Edmonds’ are back

By Joanne Peterson | Jun 13, 2013

It’s been a while since I’ve mentioned the Dogs of Edmonds.  I think it’s time I did. I’ve always felt the Dogs of Edmonds add a healthy vibe to our fine town.

Of course, if the Cats of Edmonds were out and about, I’d enjoy meeting them, too, though I think it’s just fine that they stay home, napping in the sun.

By the way, I am pleased that the local Friends of the Library, when they invite new members to join—which they do, all the time--also seek the membership of the cats of those who join.  (We in Friends of the Library tend to think that cats are more inclined toward bookishness than dogs. Some argue that, but the cats who join Friends enjoy their smug and singular status.)

I am reminded of the gazillion hours my sweet cat Benjamin spent curled against me while I read.

I miss my dear orange boy—who has been gone over a year now. When our animal family members go on to wait for us in some fine future place, it is miserable without them, no sense pretending it isn’t.

But, of course, we go on, and other people whose hearts are owned by animals understand and let us love on their pets in order to gain some bit of fur therapy to salve our loneliness.

I’ve met several great new dogs lately. A couple of weeks ago, walking to the library, I met a cute chubby Beagle-type dog, out walking her Man. Her name, I think, was Maggie.

She had a great interest in all that was going on around her. Her past was not as pleasant as her present; she was a rescue dog, fortunate to find herself finally in a permanent home with folks who can be counted upon to be loving and kind, rather than abusive.

Today I met Henry, a slightly-graying eight-year-old Golden Retriever, loitering along Fifth Avenue behind his patient Person, a woman who allowed him to stop and sniff every item of interest, with no complaint, no impatience. Henry and his Person clearly both count themselves lucky—he’s another rescue dog, earlier abused and now beloved.

Also today, I met a gorgeous Airedale named Buck, a great big boy only five months of age. When his Person asked him to sit, he did! I was beyond impressed.

Then Buck did some barking, but not in a bad way. His Person said Buck likes girls; I gather he was greeting me, at some length. Anyway, he was a perfectly lovely package of curly fur and controlled high energy.

Local author Kizzie Jones, one of my Writing Sisters, has three adorable Dogs of Edmonds, all dachshunds—Happy, Josie and Molly.

Kizzie, with illustrator Scott Ward, created a children’s book, “How Dachshunds Came to Be: A Tall Tale about a Short Long Dog,” currently snapping up awards from San Francisco to New York City. Buy it at the Edmonds Bookshop.  Go, Dogs of Edmonds!



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