About this time fifteen years ago, Hubby and I sat down to watch a dubious horror film called Carrie 2: The Rage. We didn’t have high expectations; and we had no idea that it would change our lives forever.
I don’t actually remember much about the story or how good the film was. All I remember is this guy:
His name is Walter, and he belongs to Rachel Lang – the girl with the weird psychic powers. Despite the bloody nature of the film, Walter fares very well. He has a bit of a fur-raising moment about half-way through but ultimately has a happy ending (which is more than be said for most of the characters).
Walter (not his real name) deserves an Academy Award for the performance he gave in that film, because he melted our hearts. Of course, as we’d later discover, he wasn’t acting. He was just doing this cool trick called “being a basset hound”. He was loving. He was grumpy. He ran. He did “the look”.
At the end of the film, Hubby and I hopped straight to Amazon and ordered two books about owning basset hounds (the excellent Basset Hound Owner’s Survival Guide and this more practical one). And, less than two months later, we had a gorgeous, wriggly, big-eared Walter of our own. Except she was called Cordy, and she was even better.
Thank you Walter.