Mornings With Barney

by Dick Wolfsie

  In a way, people needed the diversion we provided, maybe more than ever. But all of us in the media had a hard time deciding what was a respectful way to grieve, relieve the stress, and cover the news. There was no recent precedent in any newsroom.

  The first day back on the air, I explained our absence. Then, somehow, it was business as usual for the next two years, up until Barney’s death. I really believe that the beagle helped all of us in some small way handle the difficult months that followed the tragedy.

  Barney was always my rock. While his behavior was unpredictable, his role in my life and others’ lives never varied. He woke up next to me every morning, then he trotted off to work with me. His role was simple: Be himself. Ignore the rules. Have fun. See you again tomorrow.

  At the beginning of this man-and-his-dog story, I sometimes I wondered if I really wanted to be identified, not as talk-show host, or a reporter, or a writer, but instead, as Barney’s dad. That insecurity evaporated quickly as I saw the impact Barney made on the community. I will never know if a different dog could have gotten the job down. Maybe Barney wondered if he had picked a different TV personality if things would have worked out quite so well.

  I will be linked forever with Barney. When people bring up Barney’s antics, I take pride in what we did together. My license plate for the last seventeen years, BARNEY 8, is in more ways than one moving proof of that. I am now less recognizable without the dog. There was a time it bothered me a little if people remembered Barney’s name and not mine.

  No longer . . .

  “Hey, weren’t you the guy with Barney on TV?”

  “Yes, I was. Thanks for watching.”

  Here’s the bottom line: Without Barney, I would have still gotten plenty of laughs, acquired a few loyal fans, and maybe even racked up a few awards. But I wouldn’t have captured a single heart.

  There’s a little beagle in all of us—yearning to try something new, searching for an adventure with hope that along the way we can touch a few lives.

  Thanks, Barney, thanks from all of us.

  Acknowledgments

  This book was written entirely from my head . . . and heart. I never had to go to the library, never surfed the Internet or Googled anything. So unlike some authors who wax on about their research assistants and experts who collaborated on their manuscript, I don’t have to.

  My good friend and fellow writer Mark Olshaker encouraged me, actually coerced me, into writing this book, and provided his professional guidance every step along the way. Mark had more confidence in my ability than I did. That’s the best kind of friend to have.

  Then there is my wife, Mary Ellen, who said that if I didn’t write the book, I’d probably end up hating myself. She was right. That’s also what she said about my first ten books. Heidi Newman, my personal editor, never caved until I rewrote every sentence she hated. There were lots of them.

  Thanks to Shawn Coyne, my agent, for recognizing a good story and believing in it. My gratitude goes to Ann Treistman, my editor at Skyhorse publishing, for her insightful suggestions and patience in helping to make this book a reality.

  And, of course, I extend my most profound appreciation to the tens of thousands of Barney fans who still tell me how much they miss him. They are not only the reason I wrote the book, but they are the reason there was a story to share in the first place.

  1 As determined by an independent Lab, his best friend.