A Boy, a Dog Named Whitey, and a Chocolate Easter Bunny

I've probably received more comments of love regarding this post than any I've written. It's hard to believe?another year?has gone by.

(Original post from April 2, 2021)

When I was four, a dog followed my Dad home and never left. My Dad named him Whitey, and Whitey's loyalty was always to my father.

Whitey could have been the model for the Tramp in the Disney classic, Lady and the Tramp. He was handsome and muscular with long, white, shaggy hair, and he was all mongrel.

When Whitey came into our lives, we lived upstairs of my parent's first dry cleaning store; Whitey preferred to sleep in the store instead of our tiny apartment.

Everyone in the neighborhood knew him, and he knew them as well. He wasn't overly affectionate but a loyal soldier or sidekick if and when he chose to be you. It was always his choice. I was a proud little boy when he walked beside me. I've always cherished those precious moments when it was my time with him and our time together. I loved him, and I loved how important he made me feel.

He would disappear for hours on end. Where he went, we never knew. But he always returned for dinner and then a long nap.

When I was six, we moved to a new neighborhood. My father started his workdays at five in the morning, and when he drove to work on those early mornings, Whitey always went with him. It gave my mother comfort to know that Whitey was there to protect my Dad.

On the morning of Easter Sunday in 1954, my parents told me that Whitey had died the night before. I was devastated. We had a back entrance to our home with a long wooden staircase that led to the garage. I sat on one of the top steps sobbing for hours while eating the three-inch ears off a foot-long chocolate bunny my parents gave me for Easter.

Every Easter for 66 years, I remember a sad little boy grieving, sitting on the wooden staircase and munching a chocolate bunny. I remember my first loss and hero, our noble Whitey. And as I write this, a 78-year-old man has a tear in his eye.

Over the past year, my sister lost a dog she loved and now has a new dog to take on daily walks with her. In La Ventana, dogs are everywhere.

A dog you love is a precious gift.

Regardless of your spiritual beliefs, this holiday weekend, commit to empathy and compassion for yourself, your fellow human beings, and all the earth's creatures.?

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