Togo Goes to College

I was scrolling through social media sites this week and noticed a lot of posts about new college freshmen. A few of my observations:

1. Most of the new female students were pictured in their very decorated dorm rooms standing alongside their new roommates.

2. Male students were generally captured in an obligatory family photo out by the car or in front of a building. The amplitude of joy on the guy’s face was diminished in direct proportion to the number of his siblings in the picture.

3. Posts from moms tended to be emotional and best read in a quavering voice. Most contained some variation of “I’m losing my little baby.” Posts from dads said things like “See you at Thanksgiving unless we move in the meantime!”

Daddy and I walk up on the local university campus a lot. This morning, the parents had gone home and students were excited about Welcome Week. The band people were headed to the music building to practice music and marching. The athletes were going to the cafeteria to fuel up for their workouts. Others just seemed to be wandering aimlessly.

We had just made our big turn to head back home when a young woman came rushing over and stopped right in front of us. “New Freshman” was written all over her. She was carrying a campus map and had a big name tag on and was carrying stuff that I’m pretty sure she didn’t need.

Her first words to Daddy were, “May I pet your dog?” So polite. Except she should be asking me, not Daddy. But Daddy knows that I always say “yes” to such requests and so I graciously let him answer on my behalf. Sort of like my lawyer. Or my butler.

We talked for awhile. She smelled like waffles and maple syrup. This was her first full day on campus. She acted a little nervous and like she might be late for something. So we thanked her for the visit. Daddy handed her one of my treats to give to me in parting. And since she was so very nice, I slobbered a little extra on her hand so she would remember me. That only seemed to remind her that she needed to leave. She asked Daddy where the nearest restroom was. And she was gone.

They have a lot of nice buildings at college and big, wide-open grassy areas to run and play in. Daddy says that young people — and some old — come here for four or more years.

On our way home, I asked Daddy, “What happens in all of those buildings?”

“You’ve been coming here for ten years and you’ve never been in the library or a classroom, have you?” Daddy became a little more serious as we walked along. “If you did go to class,” he asked, “what would you want to study?”

I had to think about that for awhile.

“You know, I don’t think I’d want to limit myself. I’ve already learned a lot even though I haven’t been to class,” I explained. “I guess I’ve been getting a liberal smarts education.”

Daddy stopped walking and kneeled down beside me. “What have you learned?”

“Well,” I began, “almost everybody we’ve talked to on our walks either has a dog back home or wished they did.”

“So,” Daddy asked, “how does knowing that make a difference?”

I looked him right in the eye. “For just a little while, I’m everyone’s dog. And that makes them and me happy.”

And that’s when Daddy’s eyes became a little watery. “We’d better head back. Momma will be worried about us,” he said.

I walked a little closer to him. “You know I’ll always be your dog, right?”

Daddy just sniffled a little and handed me a doggy treat. “I know, buddy.”