I know what your thinking. we want more Wally! How does he like the new castle? Has he figured out how to use the doggie door?) NO! Has he found the river? Where does he go to the bathroom now? (He loves my friend John’s front garden of Eden). Most of all, is he as happy and grateful as you always are? (Not when it is 50 below zero and there is 2 feet of snow on his favorite watering spots). So, let us continue our PD journey- imagining of course that we are walking Wally along the way- by looking more closely at Wally and his Bill.

I mean Will. But don’t call me Will. I. am. just humble (sometimes Bill, the writer/teacher/leader/dog walking dad. Wally is the center of attention for this lesson. First, we should get one thing straight, he might look big in pictures but he’s not as big as he might appear. Or as big as he thinks he is. Ask the neighborhood giant dogs how big Wally thinks he is. They just grumble at his “little man’s disease” and keep walking while Wally continues to run his mouth. Not the best behaved student at the Academy, if you know what I mean. On the outside, anyway. Inside his head he’s a huge dog in control of Bill and occasionally even his own free will.

How do I know that Wally has self-control challenges? Let’s look at the clean plates after dinner. And that is before the staff clears the places. I think the dishwasher and I are irrelevant. Or unnecessary. Or redundant. Or superfluous. The dog cleans more up around here than I have. Although that is not fair- he has 2 eyes and 4 legs while I am -1 and -2 in those categories. (A little math for my nieces and nephew who love to do math as much as their grandfather likes to teach). Let me digress- have you ever felt like a screen door on a submarine? That’s me around the house. (Listen, I had a procedure done on my working eye, so doctor’s orders to rest. Good timing this weekend huh)?

But back to Wally and his love of pizza crusts. We eat pizza 8 nights a week. And sometimes (every time) the little man manages to grab a crust. You may even recall the near death experience in a prior post about the pizza crust he would not let go in the middle of the street. See, (I am seeing much better now by the way) Wally can’t control himself. He sees it. He eats it. Or takes it. Or just licks it. Then flies into your lap to share the aroma from his mouth. Lovely.

But the pizza crusts are actually very special to him. So I understand his passion. He has plans to grow a pizza orchard in the backyard next to the pool. It will be a teenager’s dream come true. He doesn’t eat the crusts, just grabs it off the plate, flies to the sliding glass door (sometimes into that sliding glass door) and off to sow the seeds of his insane dream. But, I do wonder if it is possible to grow pizza trees in this climate. We won’t count our pizzas before they have hatched…but heck if Tom Brady can retire and stop winning Super Bowls- then anything can happen, right?

That’s where our faith in Wally pays off. He is a lover and a dreamer. He believes in things that we can’t even see. Like the sounds he hears before we do. Like the sense that it is time to go for a walk. Like the vision to find the trash, pizza, chicken, and the cats’ tootsie rolls before anyone can even smell it. He craves routine. Blizzards are bad for routine by the way. Wally also represents our love of people here at the Academy. He would rather meet a human than a dog. He would rather spend time catching your droppings from the table, than chase the cats. This 20 pound package of outward cockiness and inward intelligence and visionary-ness is also a fine example of the faith we need to have in each other. Because no matter what- the dog believes. He believes the filet mignon is his. He believes the entire couch is his. He believes someday he can live out his days on a pizza farm. So do I. Who wouldn’t? (I better tell- I mean ask the Real Boss to consider amending her post-working future).

In conclusion, what have we learned? Believing in people and pets is important. Looking at the bright side of Wally’s occasionally manifested maladjusted behavior can help one see the goodness over the sight of the spilled garbage. Because, if you had only listened to him- and grab him a pizza crust- you might not have a mess. Believe in your dreams. Hell may have to freeze over first (seems like it might be soon based on our weather), but someday pizza will grow. And if we believe in each other, we can accomplish a heckuva lot more than if we look around and just grab or eat or bury what is “ours” and head back to our own couch. As I tell whomever will listen…set a routine, let them dream, show them the way, and get out of the way. Dogs, and students know what they want when they see it. It is our job to provide the structure, routines, and places to potty. As well as the places to dream, occasionally scream, shine their light beam, and discover where the best bones are buried. To most effectively guide our dogs (of course I have Wally as a guide dog) or students to find success, we have to believe in them. I believe in you Wally. And I hope when the saxophone player is reading this to you later- you too believe in me.

That’s all I got. Thanks for Coming!