A little different focus today. This past week a couple of vivid memories of our dogs came to mind.
My life with animals and especially dogs was important when I was growing up. We lived on a farm, so cows, dogs, and cats, occasionally pigs and chickens. I love dogs, always have. I have never met a dog that wasn’t my next new friend.
Even the very first one, a German Shepherd, was my friend, and we played together a lot. When I was 3 (1952), I moved his chow bowl, and he didn’t like that. So he bit me on the upper lip. I still remember going to the doctor in town to get my lip sown. That is also why a moustache will never work for me, it’s a bare spot on my upper lip.
Sparky was our next dog. Sparky was almost the perfect, dog, my best friend ever. Great hunting dog, but he loved to play with us boys—a lot! In November 1959, my father and brother were away deer hunting for the week. Someone gut-shot Sparky, but didn’t kill him. My mother told me I had to shoot Sparky to avoid the continuing suffering and slow death. So as a 10 year old I discovered what it was like to lose a close pet, yes, even my friend. My heart still aches when I think of that day. It has been 57 years ago this past week, and feels like yesterday. I will try to find a photo of him.
Then we found a poor little dog, just a few weeks old, abandoned in the country. Lady became the soul mate of Sparky. Not a hunting dog, but the best companion, and despite her size, the best watch dog ever. She was the first dog my father ever allowed into the house. And we were all happy about that, even my father!
I miss all three dogs.
Because we have moved 28 times in the last 45 years, it was not practical to have a dog. But I sure wish I could find another Sparky or Lady.
How about you? Do you have fond memories of dogs, a special dog?