Gulliver

Once upon a time Gulliver belonged to our daughter's family. Bob and I, who were then dog-less, with no plans to ever have another pet, were happy with Gulliver in the role of our granddog. It isn't that we didn't love him, but I had retired, and we were "empty-nesters" who figured we would do more traveling as the years rolled on. Then on our grandson's seventh birthday with a group of Michael's friends expected for a party and sleepover, his parents decided the event would go more smoothly without throwing an excitable little puppy into the mix, especially one who piddled on the floor at the slightest provocation.

I won't bore you with all the details, but suffice it to say that this adorable springer spaniel puppy with the chocolate brown eyes walked into our house that day and straight into our hearts. It wasn't long before his original family had adopted an English sheepdog with a temperament much better suited to their lively household, and Gulliver, in the relative quiet of our home, soon outgrew his piddling. Now, seven years later, Milly lives with them, Gulliver lives with us, and this once-upon-a-time-story has a happy-ever-after-ending.