My grandparents live a short distance away from my mom, me, and my very intelligent dog, a miniature Dachshund named Otto. Monday my mom, Otto and I decided to pay a visit to my grandparents’ house. Otto loves my grandparents’ house because they live in the county and my mother and I live in the city, so at my grandparents’ house he has a ton of room to run after his tennis balls and chase squirrels up trees. He also loves my grandpa, who pampers him by making sure Otto has all his stuff out of storage and in the garage by the time he gets there.
Usually, when we say that we are bringing Otto, my grandpa, who is like Otto’s hero, will put out his bowls with food and water, his bed, his tennis balls, his radio tuned to his favorite “light” music station, and his litter box (yes, he is litter box trained, it comes in handy), but this time my grandpa was not expecting us to stay long so he didn’t put Otto’s stuff out. When we got to my grandparents house, Otto barged in and started looking for his stuff. When Otto realized that his “belongings” where not in their usual places, he looked back at my grandfather with big brown eyes overflowing with deep disappointment and sorrow, as to say, “Why…why do you do this to me?”
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| My Dog, Sir Otto Jeremiah |
It wasn’t long before my mother, Otto, and I were getting ready to leave. As we were walking toward the door, Otto did something I had never seen him do before. He went to the door and sat down looking toward the door as if he desperately wanted to leave. As soon as the door was opened, he dashed toward the car. This was very unusual because usually Otto won’t even respond to me calling him when we are getting ready to leave my grandparents’ house, where he usually feels do welcomed. His insistence to leave shocked us all, especially my grandpa, so I turned and looked at my grandpa and said,
“I think he is mad at you.”
My grandpa laughed and said, “He doesn’t know what mad is. Besides what would I look like being hospitable to a dog?”
I argued and said, “Because he is your grand-dog and you love him, and you always put out his stuff when we come.”
So on Sunday my mom, Otto, and I came back over for our usual family get together after church; this time my grandpa immediately put Otto’s comfort stuff out. When Otto came in through the garage door, he immediately saw all of his wonderful things and was very appreciative. By the time we were about to leave, Otto was back to be predictable self and I had to chase him around the house to get his leash on him. Not only that but I practically had to drag him out of the house. I guess you could say that Otto knew when he felt welcomed and when he did not. On Monday Otto felt like he was being treated like a “dog” (of course, he doesn’t think he is), but by the time Sunday came I think my grandpa understood that it’s the simple things that make someone, even a dog feel welcomed.
Being hospitable is more than a virtuous deed to be checked off a to do list; it is a mind-set and a way of life. In today's world, hospitality is almost a lost art, and even though this story is about my dog and my grandfather, it should mostly serve as a reminder to just be nice and hospitable. Just think of how a person feels when they are not welcomed in your home. Treat your guests as you would want to be treated and I guarantee it will be worth it.
...But hey, you don't have to listen to me. I'm just one person trying to get you thinking on penny at a time.
