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<DIV><FONT face=Arial>My husband and I attended our first Waddle in Michigan
last weekend. In order to appreciate this story, you need to know that my
husband is not a "social" person. He doesn't like long trips, he doesn't
like being around crowds of people, he is hard-of-hearing (so lots of noise
is irritating to him), and he is not someone who will start talking to people he
doesn't know. We started for downstate Michigan with a lot of strikes
against his having a good time, right?</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial>We had bought two 10-pound boxes of small Milk Bones to
take with us. We did not take Buddy "Da Holy Terrer uv Mishgun" with us
because he is not at all socialized; he is almost three years old and the only
dog he knows is our ten-year-old Harvey, so we decided to check out the Waddle
first and then perhaps take Buddy the next time. After kenneling Buddy and
Harvey (who have never been kenneled before, but that's a whole other story), we
headed out. Feelings of guilt overpowered my husband and I was afraid that
he might want to turn around, pick up the boys and just go back home. But
finally, almost four hours later, we got to the Howliday Inn in
Southfield.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial>The first thing I did was fill up two gallon-sized bags
with Milk Bones. I explained to DH that he could not just go around
handing out treats to every dog he saw; he would have to ask their families
first if it was OK before he just popped the treats into waiting
mouths. We then set out to meet-and-greet houndies and humans
alike.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial>That was pretty much the last time I saw DH for the entire
weekend. During the auction, we did sit together and he spent the evening
smiling. He watched all of the houndies like he was an
excited rock band groupie. I don't think he saw or heard too much,
except for the Bassets. The next day, we walked out of our room to
the ballroom for the picnic; I caught occasional glimpses of him off-and-on
as he circled the room and then went to sit by the ballroom entrance.
About four hours later, we went back to the room for a minute and guess
what? His entire bag of treats was gone! So I once again filled up
his bag and we went back to the picnic; I finally made him leave when he had
once again run out of treats. Sunday at the registration area went
exactly the same way, except when his bag was gone, he stole mine off the
chair where I had been sitting!</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial>DH had the most wonderful weekend possible. He
smiled until I thought his face would crack. He laughed out loud so
many times that I had to keep looking to make sure it was actually him.
And he talked the whole way home about the dogs he had met and how much fun he'd
had. I am sorry that we didn't take Buddy, but we found out that it
was the best decision, both for Buddy and for us. However, I am so glad
that my husband decided to go because he was happier than I have seen him in a
long time. After we got home Sunday night, he gave the few remaining
treats to Buddy and Harvey. Everybody was content and asleep shortly
thereafter.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial>Yolanda Lyons </FONT></DIV></BODY></HTML>