Mr. Wilson Made it Home!

Mr. Wilson Made it Home!
Mr. Wilson

Monday, July 28, 2014


 Chapter 10, from Mr. Wilson Makes it Home

 “They’re here!” said Cheryl, her anticipation and excitement barely contained. A big rig pulling a small trailer appeared on the access road near the highway and turned into the rest area. It drove past us and headed for the far corner of the lot. The people waiting gravitated toward the truck, forming a line as close to it as they could. There was no shoving or pushing, no Black Friday madness as people absolutely, positively had to be first. Rather, an orderly line developed, the folks who were first made it there by accident, just happening to be in the right place at the right time. As it turned out, the last in line was the best spot of them all. Watching families unite with their adopted pets was the best show I had ever seen, better than the movies, the World Series and the Super Bowl combined.
     We watched the crowd assemble, then drove our car close to the gang, got out and watched from about 100 feet away. The truck’s shadow cast a covering of shade on the new dog owners; a gesture of kindness that I first thought was random until I met the people driving the truck. Kindness is not a random occurrence for the people who operate Alpha Dog Transport; it is deeply embedded in their DNA.
     Two men got out of the cab and sauntered toward the trailer, smiling briefly at the folks who gathered outside of their transport before disappearing inside. We waited, some of us not knowing quite what to expect, others knowing exactly what was coming, because they had done it before.
     Our new friends had been through a lot, the most recent being a four-day highway road trip. Dogs live in the moment, and as far as I know are unable to worry about the future. I imagine they are aware of the difference that different moments bring, and in all likelihood know when things are dull. They understand what is, and the what is that had been going on for days must have been an eternity to the dogs. For me, knowing that a destination waits at the end of a long journey makes the tedium bearable, being in the limbo of perpetual motion must have been difficult for them, as the miles and hours added up, the frequent stops to pee, eat and stretch the only breaks in the monotony.
     The first people in line were the first to be introduced to their new pet. If those people were anything like me and Cheryl they had seen the pictures, read the description of their new friend, researched the breed, knew kind of what to expect, yet were still anxious over what waited for them. Adopting a homeless pet is a risky venture-especially one that had been transported over a thousand miles to find a home.
     “Michael, look at him!” Cheryl said, barely able to contain her excitement. One of the people from the transport company had opened a side door of the trailer, the one nearest the cab and stepped out, holding the first adoptee. He wasn’t at all what I expected. I had envisioned a scared little rascal; timid, shy and unwilling so socialize. Instead, a bundle of energy and love appeared, and was handed off to his new owners. They let him onto the ground, and he circled his new owners, sniffed and sniffed some more then graciously let his new mom pick him up and hold him in her arms. The lady was overwhelmed with joy, and tears streamed down her face as she walked past us, holding the brown, mixed Labrador, hound dog, terrier thing so tightly I thought he might be crushed. But he wasn’t crushed, not even close. He was as overjoyed as she was, and he licked her face, and she didn’t mind, and the lady’s husband followed, a smile on his face that appeared as soon as he saw his new friend come out of the truck, and grew wider as he saw the effect his new friend had on his wife. It was a look of pure joy, true, uncomplicated, uninterrupted by phones or TV’s or internets- just a middle-aged man and his dog and his wife who was beyond happy, and they left, the three of them, lost in their new world that will revolve around their pet who had traveled so far to be with them.
     “This is incredible,” I said to Cheryl as the man from the truck company went inside to get another one. She smiled then, a true, soulful smile that transcended time and place, and caught me, and I smiled too, and didn’t stop for hours.
     We leaned on the hood of our car, not wanting to rush things, content for once to stand back and let what was happening happen. It was enough just to live in the moment and share that moment with a group of people who, for a little while anyway, forgot about their busy lives and focused on the miracle that was happening to us right now.

Friday, July 25, 2014

Cheryl, Mr. Wilson and the Caterpillar

Cheryl, Mr. Wilson and the Caterpillar

It is hard to forget that you have Multiple Sclerosis. Movement is difficult, and simply walking from here to there takes monumental effort. Going out is a chore, staying in a bore, and trying to find happiness elusive. But give a girl a green caterpillar and a caterpillar eating Wilson and things don't seem so bad after all, if only for a little while. The beauty of it is, as far as Mr. Wilson is concerned, there is no such thing as a little while, there is only now, and right now there is no such thing as Multiple Sclerosis either! And when Cheryl plays with him everything is just the way it is supposed to be. For everybody. The joy that our dog has brought into our lives is truly astonishing.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

They Wait

Mr. Wilson: What do you guys want to do today?

Lunabelle: Considering we're locked in here, perhaps we should consider breaking out.

Victoria Mae: I've been out, no big deal.

Mr. Wilson: How about Hide and Seek?

Victoria Mae: Okay, you hide, and we'll seek (Lunabelle snickers in the background)

Mr. Wilson: Wanna get into the garbage?

Lunabelle: Puhleeese.

Mr. Wilson: We could run around the house and jump on the beds and the couch and then swirl around in circles until we throw up.

Victoria Mae: We did that yesterday.

Mr. Wilson: Well, you two stink. I'm going back to bed.

Victoria Mae: Great idea.

Lunabelle. Wake me when they get home.

Mr. Wilson: I wish they never had to leave.

Nothing beats the greeting our pets give us when we return. It's easy to forget that we are the center of their universe, their benefactors, protectors and amusement. I try and keep that in mind when I'm tempted to tell them to leave me alone, or to "go lay down!"

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

The tale of the gloveless dunce.

Victoria is difficult. Even Mr. Wilson has yet to win her affections. She needs medication for an overactive thyroid. The vet gave us pills.

Victoria didn't take kindly to my attempts to administer them.

After mauling me, she retreated to the cool tile of the bathroom, where she made her stand. Not one to give in so easily, I found a new, better way to get her meds into her. The vet gave us a gel that can be applied to her inner ear. "Make sure you wear gloves," he said, "you don't want the medicine to get onto your skin, you will end up medicated."

So I put a glove on, and proceeded to push the medication onto my bare finger, then put it into her ear.

"I've got something for you," said Mr. Wilson after witnessing the debacle.

The moral of the story? Two gloves are better than one! Some days I don't know why I bother to get out of bed.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Book News

Mr. Wilson Makes It Home

Mr. Wilson Makes It Home

How One Little Dog Brought Us Hope, Happiness & Closure
Michael Morse

Available Everywhere February 3, 2015, Stay Tuned for more details!
When some of the light went out in Michael and Cheryl Morse’s life, Mr. Wilson brought it back.

When Michael and Cheryl Morse slowly drifted apart amid the grief of their two beloved dogs—put down on the same day three years prior—it became apparent that their lives were in need of a lift. Cheryl's twenty-year battle with multiple sclerosis and Michael's struggles with PTSD had taken a toll on their spirit, with little room for joy.

Too often we bask in the negativity that surrounds us and dwell on the things that didn’t happen—or should have happened. Periodic glimpses of bliss can grab us by the throat, shake us to the core, clear our sight, and give us the clarity of mind and presence of body to stop everything and take a deep breath; feel it, acknowledge it, and know that it is true. Accepting the moment as a gift to be treasured is the most important thing a person can do.

That moment arrived when a small dog was placed in the Morses' arms.

In Mr. Wilson Makes It Home, the joy Michael and Cheryl so badly needed comes in the form of an adorable little schnoodle named Mr. Wilson. This animal adoption story tells of the love, recovery, faith, and hope that a lovable pet can bring to a brokenhearted family.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

For the Love of a dog

Doesn't he know that I'm not all that great,
that some days I can't even get out of my own way
and grumble and moan about just about everything?

Doesn't he know that that I really don't deserve all of this,
that loving me unconditionally may not be such a great idea
and I might let him down?

Doesn't he know how dangerous it is
to depend on somebody
who isn't all he's cracked up to be?

I guess he doesn't know.
He doesn't even think it.
To him, I'm the greatest
for him, I'll try a little harder.

Saturday, July 5, 2014


What value do we put on a pet's life and well being during it? Is there a dollar amount that exceeds what we are willing to pay? If so, how much?

Truth be told, Victoria has always been our "weird" cat. She came from a rescue, unlike the rest of the gang who just kind of showed up, except for Lunabelle who we actually got from a breeder (dodges bricks while writing.) She's quirky, and acts as if she is half squirrell, half cat. Maybe her mother and father are sister and brother, we just don't know. We do know that something just ain't right. She lashes out withous a sceond's notice, her head spins completely around her neck, and every now and then she levitates.

But there's just something about her.

We took her to the vet this week because she's acting stranger than usual. An overactive thyroid gland is the diagnosis.

Vet visits and medication:  $3-4000 over the expected life, paid little bit at a time or...
Surgury: $5000 or...
Radiological iodine something: $2000.00 or...

Nah. She's eleven, probably live to be a hundred. What's a little loot when a nutty cat needs us!