Telephone rings. Answering machine kicks on:

“Hi! You’ve reached the Singley’s but we can’t come to the phone right now because we’re busy teaching our pet dog Walter some new tricks. Right, Walter?”

“Right, dad!” little Peter yelped, sounding like a yapping talking dog.

“But if you leave your name…”

We never thought of Walter the Wonder Dog as anything other than a bonafide member of our family. There were five of us: Martin C. Singley, Sandra L. Singley, Peter M. Singley, Bethany A. Singley – and Walter J. Singley. Hate to say it but that “J” stood for “Jerk.” Because in addition to being the world’s most loving dog, Walter was the world’s dumbest dog.

“Walter, gimme your paw.”

Face-lick times five.

“No, not kisses, Walter. PAW! Gimme your PAW!”

Face-lickety-lickety-lick.

Or, I’d throw a stick or ball out into the backyard. “Walter, go fetch!”

Walter sat down, tail wagging wildly, adoring eyes seeming to say, “Dad, that was a GREAT throw! Go get it and let’s do it again!”

And of course, there were the times at Camp Singley when Walter got run over by our boat. The story: our boat was a little 10-foot Sears Jon boat powered by a mighty 3-hp Evinrude motor. By the time we loaded up with two kids and two full-sized adults that boat was well over its weight limit and the displaced water came up to within inches of the gunwales. So we had to leave Walter behind. Pushing off from the shore, I fired up the motor and off we went.

But Walter was not taking “no” for an answer.

Sprinting down the shoreline, across the waterfront lots of all our neighbors, Walter galloped. She chased us until she ran out of land to run on.

And then Walter dove into the lake, still chasing us!

“Dad, go faster! She’s catching up!”

That little Evinrude three-banger was straining to keep us ahead of the dog. And we probably could have won the race until…

…Walter went under.

“Dad, stop! Walter’s down! She’s gonna drown!”

So we stopped the boat.

And Walter – popping back up to the surface – gasping for breath – coughing up water – dog-paddling as fast as she could – finally reached the side of the little Sears Jon boat. We pulled her in. Walter licked all our faces, tail wagging furiously, and gave herself a mighty full-body shake, soaking the rest of us in the process. And then Walter made her way to the bow of the boat, stuck her nose into the wind, proudly leading the way…back to Camp Singley. Because, you see, we were just about sinking with Walter’s extra weight.

Now you may be thinking this is a happy ending to what could have been a terrible tragedy. But not so fast.

Turning toward Camp and speeding up a bit to be able to beach the boat when we hit the shore, Walter got excited about being back at Camp Singley. The closer we got the more excited she was!

So she jumped toward shore, diving into the water.

Over the bow of that little Sears Jon Boat.

And got run over.

Walter yelped, shrieked, and scurried up onto our waterfront, looking like a drowned rat, finally finding solace in the crawlspace space underneath the house. She cleaned herself off, curled up, and took a long nap there.

And every time the Singley family sailed away for a ride in the little green Sears Jon boat…

…Walter chased us down the shoreline, dove into the water, almost drowned, got pulled into the boat, shook herself off, took her place in the bow, led the way home, dove into the water before we reached shore, got run over, yelped, shrieked, hid under the house…

EVERY FREAKING TIME!

Walter was not the brightest dog that ever lived.

But she was OUR dog.

She loved us.

And we loved her.

Years later, after suffering with severe chronic hip dysplasia, almost crippling arthritis and many other doggie ailments that developed over her long life, we had to say goodbye to Walter the Wonder Dog and let her go run off to the Rainbow Bridge.

Last time we saw her, Walter was being gently carried into the back room of Dr. D’s veterinary clinic.

Her tail was wagging away.

We expect the next time we see her, it will be the same.