Luke the Wonder Dog

My dog takes credit for ‘diagnosing’ my brain tumor. My husband and I entered our garage together, but he jumped back. I asked what’s wrong.

“You’re kidding? The stench is unbearable.”

Late August temperatures cooked the bin used to collect the dog’s poop and the lid fell open, releasing a stink.

“I don’t smell anything.”

“That can’t be right.”

My doctor scheduled an MRI that revealed a racquetball-sized tumor between my eyes and olfactory nerve. It was operable and benign. I was lucky.

My dog reminds me at every turn that I owe him my life. He thinks he’s Lassie.

From Guest Contributor Anne Anthony