by Darlene Vensel
When my cousin first called me and told me she had a pup for me, I was unsure whether I wanted one because we lived in an apartment and we already had two outside dogs someone had dropped off. I thought about it for awhile and called her back to tell I would take it. It was supposed to be a blond lab but he looked more black because his mother lived in the coalbin of the owners basement. We had to bathe him about five times before he was totally clean. He
was a warm, wonderful ball of engery who was quick to learn where the door was what it meant when I picked up the leash to take him for a walk.
My husband and I did not have children at the time and we moved from the apartment to an old house way out in the country. There were days when I saw no one but my dogs and I would turn Gypsy and whatever hunting dog was there, loose and we would go for long walks in the woods. Sometimes it would be just Gypsyjoe and me. I would walk to our favorite spot in the woods and sit and talk to him. He would look at me with those big brown eyes as though he knew what I was saying. He knew all my secrets and understood them all. No one could hurt me because he was my protector as well as friend.