When Willie Won the Town
Volume 2 Issue 1
April 1, 2008
Author: Rich Flynn
Willie is a rottweiler and he looks the way a rottweiler is supposed to look. He is large, even for an adult male of the breed, and his social interactions--burdened by the reputation that he carries around with him. He is intimidating. There is no doubt about that. He has big white teeth appropriately arranged in his head, which appears to be about two feet wide. He weighs around 130 pounds, and this, too, is intimidating. Especially to people who do not know him well enough to understand that at least half of his weight is heart.Most people in the small town that I had moved to were not at all fond of big old dogs, especially those with teeth that gleam so nicely in a head that appears about two feet wide. Willie, well-trained, is use to his leash, and he halts, heels, sits, and stays whenever I want him to. If I point my index finger at him and say "Bang", he flops down on his back and remains still, just like a dead dog should.
In spite of his manners, I have seen people cross the street to avoid getting within range of those teeth. I walk him daily; and he is
always leashed when we are wandering around the streets of the little town. When people see him for the first time, they invariably say the same thing. "He's big!"I guess the little town has around five hundred residents. Willie and I are the newest. There is a corner store, exactly one traffic signal, and a post office. One of my favorite places is a hiking trail that extends for twelve miles down an old railroad grade. One of Willie's favorite places is the little corner store. It is not a part of some big chain. It is just a little privately owned building on the corner. It sells all of the things that are necessary for survival in the little town. They have lottery tickets, gas, chewing tobacco, and coffee. And, of course, they have weenies. Lots of weenies...