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Comanche Trace

Poanna & Mulligan Wege

Posted by admin on October 1, 2014 at 3:10 AM

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worth of such devotion. - Author Unknown

My name is Poanna (derived from poa annua, a type of grass used on greens and generally regarded by the golfer as being difficult to read and annoying). Everyone calls me “Po Po”. I am a simple sort – a Golden Retriever by breed, no long pedigree, no champion blood lines. I was born in Mishicot, Wisconsin in a barn along with 7 siblings. It was 2006. For some reason, they picked me and it has been a heck of run so far. It was winter when they took me home to a 10 acre playground of snow, trees and plenty of room to run and roam. Little did I know at the time that winter would become a distant memory and chewing ice balls out of my feet would be a thing of the past. We packed up and moved to Texas in 2008 and it has been a party ever since. Now I spend my days riding in the golf cart (got over my motion sickness), waiting by the fence for Pam and Mike to throw me a treat (two barks means I am waiting for them) and taking my daily walks around the neighborhood. I was pretty much the center of attention all around until “she” came up the driveway in the golf cart… y name is Mulligan and judging by my appearance, I am a mix of Miniature Pinscher, Chihuahua and some sort of terrier. I was “adopted” by my owners after they found me on the corner of Cielo Drive and Clubhouse Road. From my initial appearance, I was not in the best of shape but with some patience on their part and a little effort on mine, I came around in due time. My name is aptly suited since the golfer’s definition of a mulligan is a “do over” and boy did I hit the jackpot! I fell into the lottery of “found dogs” when I agreed to hop into the golf cart on that hot July day in 2011. A regime of daily exercise, playtime and proper discipline has turned me into a stellar example of how good a mutt can be given the time and patience required. You will often see me trotting alongside my owners, head and tail held high as we make our daily trek around Comanche Trace. I am also known as the “four legged shag bag” as my owner pitches golf balls out into the back yard and before they hit the ground, I snap them up and deposit them back at his feet. I could do that all day long!

If heaven is the place where all of dogs you have ever loved come to greet you, then that must mean this isn’t heaven. And if this isn’t heaven, then the real heaven must be a spectacular place to go because it is pretty dog gone good here.

“It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them. And every new dog that comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are.” -Author Unknown


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