10 times 7

Sandra had been reading the local paper and had seen a classified ad for a black Lab. The dog had been in a shelter and the folks in the shelter couldn't keep him much longer. Day after day, Sandra read the ad and wondered aloud if we should take the dog. My mother was living with us. It would affect her more than anyone. Ever agreeable, my mother said that it was fine with her if we got a dog.

So, on the last night that he would be in the shelter, on the last night of February in 1997, we drove to West Brookfield to collect our new dog.

We named him Marley, after Bob Marley. The shelter didn't know his name. He was found wandered along the road some weeks before and taken to a pound. The pound went out of business and the shelter, affiliated with a vet's office, took him in. The staff nicknamed him Reebok because he always had a tennis ball in his mouth. They didn't know his exact age, but estimated that he was a year.

He was (and is) exuberant, affectionate unless you are a dog. We walked him around the building and knew before we were halfway around that we wanted him. We went to the office, settled up with the paperwork, and put him in the car. He showed his gratitude by eating the small plastic wastebasket in the back of my car.

And my mother was the one most affected. The two of them became best buds. She would make a large salad every afternoon for our evening meal. Marley came to like broccoli stalks, tops of the tomatoes, carrots, and pretty much every else except celery (unless it had salsa on it). She was the only one who could get him to sit and wait before diving into a bowl of whatever.

So, Happy 10th Birthday, Marley, whether it's today or some other day.