His peering bug eyes account for 20 percent of his body weight. He snores like an ox and snorts like a pig. He chases squeaky toys (blindly) with the feverish abandon of a puppy. He’s 91 in dog years, but loves a game of tug-of-war with BFF Dexter the Great Dane. And whether its the cataracts or a mysterious train of prolonged doggy daydreaming, he’ll often catch you off guard with a disarmingly wide-eyed, focused stare that makes you feel like he’s peering into your very soul.
A little more than a month after getting married in January, we adopted a 13-year-old, semi-blind, semi-deaf Boston Terrier named Otis after a dear friend of the family passed away. It wasn’t the grandchild my mother was pining for, but Otis is certainly less expensive than an infant. Score.
After initial skepticism of how a dog would fit into our crazy schedule – we both work long hours and don’t have a backyard – it’s working out just fine. Adopting an older canine has its challenges, sure. But at the end of the day when I’m walking through the door, no matter how late it is, the first thing Otis does is crawl off the couch, wag that stubby tail of his and say “hello.”
That, coupled with ambush kisses, evening cuddles (or, taking over the entire bed) and the daily laughs he brings us with quirky mannerisms and quizzical facial expressions, will always make Otis the best First Dog ever, even if he’s only with us for a short while.
– Blair Franklin, Dispatch city editor
