Originally published in the Superior Catholic Herald, December 11, 2014

What’s going on? Something strange is about to happen in my life – I just know it – I can feel it.  Remember the last time I wrote? I told you that I can tell exactly what kind of day I’m going to have by looking at the type of shoes the Bishop puts on in the morning.

What I didn’t tell you then is how I can also tell when he’s going out of town for a long period of time. It has to do with a small suitcase he packs on top of his bed. When he does this, it always means I’m off to some friend’s house for an extended stay.

Well, get a load of this: There are now two HUGE suitcases on the living room floor just waiting to be packed. This can only spell some sort of trouble for me, I’m afraid.

To add to my confusion and concern, it seems like everyone he talks to lately asks him the same question, and his response is something like, “Boys, I duh know.” Even when girls ask him the question, he responds with “Boys, I duh know.”

Finally, I had to ask one of my best friends, Cubby, what she thought his answer meant. She didn’t know either, but she asked her adoptive parents, and they said it has something to do with Boise, Idaho. Neither of us knows what that means, but we don’t think it’s going to be all that good for me. It sounds like a place that’s far, far away. Now, if you ask me if I’m going to go far, far away, all I can say is, “Boys, I duh know.”

When I was just 8 weeks old, the Bishop picked me up in Milwaukee, and that too was far, far away. We drove for a long, long time all the way home to Superior. I curled up in the passenger seat and he fed me beef jerky, while we held each other’s paws most of the way.

Soon thereafter, we really bonded. You may remember the story when I got into the Gorilla Glue thinking it was a squeaky toy. The Bishop was right to be upset with me; as my lips began to bond, he chased after me with those huge scissors, having to cut my beautiful beard, giving me that strange new look called a goatee.

There were so many trips we took together in the car. There were the visits to the Carmel Delights nuns – so sweet, dogs that weren’t all that friendly to meet, and squirrels to simply harass and bury. Regardless, I always felt well cared for and safe with the Bishop. We’ve had a great life together these past six years. But now, I fear I’ll be saying goodbye, as he’s off to boys, I duh know where.

The real giveaway that makes me think I’m not going away with him is that he’s given me some amazing body rubs lately. It’s like he doesn’t want to let me go. He’s been giving me lots of what are called “bear hugs” too. (Must say, I can’t understand why anyone would want to hug a bear like that, but that’s beside the point.) I would say, however, for the last month or so, the Bishop is, more than usual, spelling out words when he doesn’t want me to understand what he is saying, thinking I can’t spell. However, he fails to remember just who’s been writing this column for the past five years – and, after all, my mom was a poodle! I’m not that illiterate.

All this said, logic would say if I’m not going with the Bishop, then I’m going to have to bid farewell to you, my favorite, hairless dog friends, too. Although, I didn’t write maybe as much as you had hoped, you always encouraged me to do so. You might ask, “Will you be writing wherever you go next?”  And all I can say is, “Boys, I duh know.” At any rate, I’m pretty darn sure if I ever do, it won’t be in Boise, Idaho.

I’ve had a great life thus far. And although different, I trust the second half of my life, in time, will be a great life as well. I hope and pray the same for you. Meanwhile, never, ever forget – regardless of the challenges that may come your way in life – to always take your Bow and Wow to God.

Fare thee well, my other best friends.