My name is Wanderer, Wandie for short.I am an American Staffordshire terrier mix; I am the pup son of Chewy and Louie. I was born on October 31, 1990 along with my nine other brothers and sisters.

If I could have predicted the future, I would have asked to be born different. I guess maybe I should have had a narrow pointy nose and smaller head, can't say I was ever a muscular dog, like my brother Clarky.

My name was derived from a nickname that was given to me by my future master, that I call mom. She gave me this name before she even realized that she would be my mother.

I earned my name by wandering off and falling down the six steps that lead to the basement. My mom awoke in the night hearing my faint little cries. When she came and rescued me, I remember her telling me 'you shouldn't wander off", hence my nickname.

I got my mom because I was one of the pups that could not seem to find a home, not sure why, I was the handsomest of the litter. My future mom was the daughter of our human owners.

I believe there is a reason for everything, the reason I didn't find a home was because me and my mom were meant for each other, although neither of us knew it at that time. I was so happy when my mom said "I want to keep Wandie", I was elated when the human parents agreed, since she was still living in their home at the time.

I can honestly say we were the best of friends; we did absolutely every thing together and we were good for each other; you see my mother has had health problems since her child hood. I could always tell when she didn't feel good and it was very hard for both of us to be apart when she occasionally had to be admitted in the hospital.

I don't think either one of us would eat very well during those times. Her human mother and father, that I call grandma and grandpa would take me to a parking lot and grandma would disappear and leave me with grandpa. I would wonder what I was doing at this place.

I was never worried that I was being taken some place bad. I knew my grandma and grandpa wouldn't let anything happen to me when my mom wasn't around. I never really understood why she would leave me at grandma's house at times but I knew there must be a good reason for us to be apart.

Then to my delight I would see grandma wheeling my mom out in a funny looking chair that moved like a car. I would be so happy to she her but scared to jump and lick her because I didn't understand those strange tubes, bags and that pole thing that rolled around.

Nevertheless I was just so glad to see her; I just couldn't help myself, and had to give her a big kiss. She would pet me and tell me how much she missed me, and that she would be home soon. It was extremely difficult when grandma would take her back into that building. I couldn't understand why I couldn't go with her, because I knew she needed me more during those times.

I am just thankful that there was no pit bull ban at that time. Since the hospital she was in was located in the city ofof Denver where the pit bull ban is the harshest, extermination. I would never have been allowed to visit; I don't think either of us would have survived without our little parking lot visits.

Even though I would have visited anyway if I could, I would give my life to make her happy even if just for a moment. After all, that is the kind of loyalty and love I have for her.

After some time she got better and boy all the fun we had, not saying we didn't have fun when she was sick, but it was different, we had so much more extra time together. We would visit grandma and my brother Clarky, he was born a little before me; at least, I think he came before me.

At first I got nervous when we would go visit, thinking that I was going to have to stay there for a few days or sometimes weeks. After a few visits I learned that me and mom went back home together. So I started getting very excited to go visit.

Mom would just say "want to go to grandma's house'? Boy, I was out the door as soon as it was opened and waiting at the car. We would also go play ball and fetch sticks at the city parks and schools.

Boy did I love to play ball, and chase sticks. After mom got tired of throwing sticks for me, I would find one favorite stick and would carry it the entire time we walked back to the car.

Sometimes she would even let me bring the stick home with me. My favorite activity was swimming; you could not keep me out of the water, I loved playing in any kind of water, even the garden hose, my mom could not water the lawn with out me trying my hardest to catch that stream spraying in the air.

My mom's nieces little swimming pool wasn't off limits either, I was in that pool with or without those little people. The only water that was off limits was grandma's pond, but every once in awhile I just really need to cool off. Grandma would catch me and holler at me to get out.

I did what I was told; sometimes it just took a few more hollers then other times.I think she was afraid that I was going to squish her fish, but I was sure they were smart enough to move.Swimming at the river or lakes when we all went camping was the best of times.

I had my brother Clarky for a playmate when we went camping. He has since passed away, I can tell my grandma and grandpa miss him terribly as do my mom and I. He lived a long and wonderful life, and died at 14 years of age.

I know he is in a better place and I am positive he would be miserable if he had to live with the restrictions placed on our kind now. That is why I am thankful that it is close to the end of my life, I only have a few weeks before my 15 th birthday.

So I know my time is running out. Now at the end of my life my mom has to help me on to the couch, yes I am one of those spoiled dogs that are allowed on the furniture. Only now she has to lift my back end up. She gets up in the middle of the night to walk me out to the bathroom, although we have a doggy door, I can't see too well, and need her to guide me.

She never has gotten angry with me for waking her up. She is a good mom, a good human. She loves all animals, that is why I share my house with my buddy Sierra, a 8 year old Shepard Husky mix, 2 cats unfortunately we just lost Sadie, an old gal at 20 plus years of age.

Her ashes are here with us in a little metal box. About a year ago mom came home with a rabbit. I hear people say to my mom "won't your dogs eat that rabbit" she reply's "no, my dogs have not been taught to chase living things".

I must say that rabbit is a funny creature, I'm not sure if he knows he is a rabbit. He acts like a dog or cat. He begs at the dinner table, I'm not allowed to do that.

He will follow us right out the doggy door into our dog run, but he is able to slip through the wooden fence plank and into the main backyard. He won't be able to do that for long, wood on my dog run is now illegal. My mom has to build me what she calls a jail cell, not sure why, at this point I'm lucky I can make it outside to do my doggy business.

I guess who ever made these rules didn't take into consideration that there are senior dogs in this world, and some people think animals are dumb.I wonder why they couldn't at least make allowances for elder dogs, such as me.

I guess they just didn't think or maybe don't care.I would find that extremely hard to believe, I have met so many nice people in my life time. I hope all the good people in the world will try hard to stop these unfair prejudices against my kind. So that my kind can enjoy the kind of life they deserve and the one that I got to live.

In Loving Memory- Wandie
10/31/1990 - 5/8/06