Stanley

It may seem rather ludicrous to some readers, but our family is madly in love with a dog named Stanley who belongs to Baby Sis and our Ideal Son-in-Law.

We first met Stanley when his parents adopted him from the feed store in Newton. We made a special stop at their house as we came home from St. Joseph, Missouri because Baby Sis sent a text message, “We bought a dog. His name is Stanley.”

He was a mere eight weeks old with a sweet curiosity about him. The old people part of us was immediately charmed by his winsome personality and magnetism.

Stanley stands about two feet off the ground with the long muscular body of his Corgi and Westie heritage. His muzzle and face are exquisitely chiseled and covered with charcoal gray (with a tint of black) and white hair. As I previously mentioned, we love him for his gentle nature, intelligence, companionship, and devotion.

Husband loves him especially, and Stanley loves Husband. Whenever Stanley sees Husband after several days of being apart, he will squeal like an excited little boy, which in turn causes Husband to gush with his own brand of delight.

I almost expect Husband to jump and flip as much as the dog does.

At times, Stanley gets to spend the night at our house as if he were a preferred grandchild, only of course, he is no child.

I often set limits how often he and Husband take over my king-size bed and push me out of it.

Stanley does prefer my pillow and blankets when he lays his sweet brown eyes close to my face.

As a person with ADHD, Husband often struggles with depression and associated mental turmoil, and Stanley is the balm that generates a positive calm for him.

Stanley models a therapy for persons with ADHD which helps the person deal with symptoms that are causing trouble in daily life. He himself is an intervention.

I have been known to phone Baby Sis and ask if Stanley can come for a visit to soothe his buddy and bring bright light into Husband’s world. Once inside our house, Stanley runs straight to Husband’s office as if to say, “Hey, I’m here, Good Buddy. It is I, your Stanley and Supporter.”

Then it is the hugs and kisses. I tell Husband, “Make certain you brush your teeth and wash your face before you kiss me.”

In a previous blog, I talked about my mother-in-laws passion over animals, and I can see the connection to her in my Husband. He understands and loves dogs and cats, and he loves that Stanley understands him.

It might have been a match made in Heaven.

Stanley likes to help Husband cook because he expects tiny pieces of raw vegetables or tid-bits of cooked meat to fall his way.

He loves to help Husband watch ball games on TV when he knows he will get an extended hair combing or his own space and blanket on the sofa.

He also likes to go on rides, a word we can only spell in his presence, not say. His special destination is Spangles, which is the only fast-food restaurant in Wichita that gives doggie treats.

Whenever Stanley is with us, we only go to Spangles.

One evening we made the mistake of going to Wendy’s. Stanley stood on the console of my Jeep waiting for his treat, but none came, of course. He immediately sat across my lap and buried his face under my arm. His feelings were crushed.

“That does it,” we agreed. “From now on it is Spangles, or we carry treats with us.”

Yes, he got two treats when we got home.