"Weave it, Oak-wee. Weave it Awone!" Kate belts as Oakley eyes the cracker she has just dropped on the floor. He won't budge, of course.
With his articulation-defying name and ready set list of commands Oakley "Long Legs" Mouland has bounded into our hearts in a big way. Wait, what...?
What's happening to me? I sound all corny and happy and stuff.
That big old, brown-eyed Labrador has ruined me.
Never again will I be able to drink the good stuff and use my disdain for parental ideals, or policy-makers or even the human race, to write, because I am so damn pleased that this dog is laying at my feet as I type. What is this feeling?
Try as I will to come up with witty, sly or even dramatic prose, all that comes to mind are fanciful phrases about the bond between an autism service dog and his little girl.
It's really killing my editorial calendar, if you know what I mean.
If I ever had an edge, Oakley has smoothed it.
I thought this dog was here to help Kate?
Grace and Kate's mom. (Shanell)