August 4, 2025, “His last day”. That’s what we were told. He was set to be euthanized with no background information other than that he had been a stray, maybe his entire life. Huge, stinky, shaggy and matted, he sat in the last kennel waiting for something, his time quickly expiring. When I went to the shelter with my wife and kids, I had already heard about the “biggest dog in the world” from my 5-year-old. Walking down the row of kennels to the last one, I wasn’t expecting to see a real-life version of the shaggy huge sheepdog from the Looney Tunes, only shaggier, smellier and certainly more pitiful. He didn’t know that it was his last day, maybe his last few hours. There he was in the kennel looking at me through a veil of matted hair, tail wagging, starved for attention.
Once out of the kennel to meet us, he bounded around the fenced area, his entire body wagging. He was so overjoyed to be around people that he was leaping around when he fell on his head and turned a flip. With my wife and two kids looking at me and reminding me it was his last day, there really wasn’t anything I could say but, “Load him up”. Honestly, in those first few moments, I wasn’t impressed. He sat in front of me for just a moment while I tried to look at him through the matted curtain over his eyes, drooling and stinking. I remember thinking, “What have we just gotten ourselves into?”. Meanwhile, the kids had already decided on a name, and it was already on his kennel door…Wally.
With the adoption papers signed, we made arrangements to get him the next morning to clean him up, mainly to get him neutered, but also so we could finally see what was hiding underneath all that dingy, matted fur. That day, my wife spent hours trimming him. He was nervous during what was most likely his first-ever grooming. Slowly, he went from a shaggy dog to something we realized was some kind of doodle mix. Then came his bath. Initially, we thought his coat was mottled white, brown and gray. As we shampooed, scrubbed and rinsed him, we realized his coat was almost entirely white. The brown and gray color was running out of his coat and swirling down the drain. Underneath all of that dirt and matted fur was a big white dog.
As is typical for a dog pulled from the shelter, there was an initial phase of Wally being standoffish, nervous and unsure of us, our Doberman, Hera, and his new surroundings. I also quickly realized that Wally had an appetite to match his size. He had no issue reaching a casserole or even a pan of pigs in a blanket sitting on the kitchen counter. Slowly, Wally became more comfortable with everyone in the house and fell into his place with us.
After a few weeks, I noticed that Wally began to gravitate toward me more as “his person”. He would spend more time lying beside me and staring at me, seemingly pondering his life. Sometimes Wally would look at me with what I can only describe as a goofy smile, almost like he was saying, “I’m just happy to be here, man.”, and a bond developed. Wally is MY buddy and I’m HIS buddy. Something as simple as standing in the yard looking at my garden, he’s content to walk up and brush my hand with his head so he can get a scratch. Sitting on a bucket working on something, I have an ever-present goofball assistant. In his time with us, he has become an alert system with a booming bark, a playful partner to Hera and a vigilant protector of our chickens, ducks and turkeys. Most of all, he became my dog, a friend who offers his head for scratches and his belly for rubs, and a friend who can tell when I’m having a rough day and somehow make it a better day.
To most people, Wally may not be an exceptional dog. He is not what anyone would consider to be a particularly intelligent dog; he routinely proves that he is a happy goofball. He is, however, the dog that came at the right time. We thought we were giving a stray dog another chance, but somewhere along the way, that big goofy dog became the kind of friend who is simply there when you need him. Wally may not be fantastic to others, but he has the most important quality for him to have; he’s a good boy.
The title of this story, “Some Doodle”, comes from a joke between my wife and I. At Wally and Hera’s yearly check-up with the veterinarian, we were asking the vet about the hair growing in his ears. I learned that it is very common for doodle or poodle-mix dogs to have this and that it can cause occasional ear infections. While examining Wally, the vet said, “Yeah, he’s some kinda doodle”. Wally seemingly flashed that goofy smile and began furiously wagging his tail. If you have read the book or seen the film Charlotte’s Web, then you will certainly remember the words in the web: “Some Pig”. My wife and I said Wally had only heard from the vet, “Some Doodle!”, so now he gets to hear it all the time…”Wally, you’re some doodle!”.
Humans took wolves, an apex predator with a strong pack mentality, and over thousands of years, turned them into dogs. We molded them into helpers, guardians and companions. We made them part of our families and taught them to depend on us. They associate us as their pack. We made them what they are, so we must care for them. I frequently look at Wally and think about how close all of this came to never happening. If we had made one different decision that afternoon, there would have been no goofy assistant following me around the yard, no booming bark watching over the birds, no big white dog pushing his head under my hand for a scratch, and no friend lying beside me on a rough day.
August 4, 2025, was supposed to be Wally’s last day. Instead, it became the beginning of his life with us. Then I think about how many Wallys are sitting on their last day and don’t get adopted. Their time expires in a kennel. They don’t get that second chance, or sometimes even a first chance.
So, this is the part that many people don’t want to hear. Most animal shelters are not “No Kill” shelters. The truth of the matter is there is not nearly enough funding available in most cases. There aren’t enough fosters available, there isn’t enough room in shelters, and there aren’t enough dogs being spayed and neutered. When there isn’t enough money, enough people to care for them, enough room in the shelters, enough adoptions, and animals continue having unwanted litters, many of them end up euthanized. There are too many of them and perpetually not enough resources available. The sad reality is not every dog can be saved, but many can.
If you are in a position in your life where you can provide a better life for a dog, visit your local shelter. Spend some time looking at the dogs. Ask which ones are short on time. Take a second to look at the shaggy, smelly, pitiful looking dog sitting in the back of a kennel. I can all but guarantee that most of them will not be purebred show dogs, but they may be good boys and girls just waiting for a chance. Give that dog a chance. You never know…you may find a Wally of your own. One day, that dog may be following you through the yard, protecting your chickens, stealing food off the kitchen counter, pushing his head under your hand for a scratch, or simply looking at you with a goofy smile because he’s happy to be there.
August 4, 2025, was supposed to be Wally’s last day. Instead, it became his first day with us. Somewhere in a shelter, another shaggy, smelly dog is waiting for someone to give him that same chance, and who knows…he might just be “Some Doodle”.
