Posts tagged ‘dog’
DOGS’ TALE: A LOVE STORY, CONTINUED
DOGS’ TALES (CONTINUED)
I had a similar experience when I was a kid, but it was not so drastic. My Auntie Zushia took my cousin Dolores a.k.a. D.O. and I to a pet shop and introduced us to the owner Henry. I have always loved pet shops. His shop had a few rows of tanks full of tropical fish. I love the smell of a room full of fish tanks, the humid tropical smell they give off. Henry also had some Spits puppies. They were light tan in color and D.O. and I each picked one out. They named D.O.’s dog Skippy and they had him for years and years. I don’t know if we ever named mine for we had him for less than a week, he would snap at everyone. So back to Henry’s pet shop we went to return the dog. Sadly, I read years later that Henry had been killed during a robbery at his pet shop. He was a gentle man who loved animals and loved sharing his knowledge of them with whoever ventured into his store.
Now back to Pook, the dog I knew in my youth and was with my family after I became a man. My sister Shirley had a friend in grade school whose dog had a litter and Shirley was offered one of the pups. My dad was as bad as I am when it comes to animals, no is not an option. We named him Spoofy but usually called him Pook. He moved into our house and slept in a little alcove behind our kitchen stove. He was a little black furry ball. We went through the usual aggravation of house training, but he finally got the idea down. A few months after we adopted him we were set to go on summer vacation, but Pook was not allowed to come along. Another friend of Shirley’s offered to take care of him while we were away, so we were set.
When we arrived home from our vacation Pook was returned to us, and he was a mess. Pook was not super – intelligent as a pup, but what pup is? During his stay with Shirley’s friend he tried to jump off the second-floor porch and the try was successful, but the landing was not, causing an injury to one of his front paws. It was swollen and he couldn’t put much weight on it. This injury did not help his appetite so along with his leg injury he had a touch of malnutrition. My father took him to the vet expecting to have him put to sleep, but Pook came back home. The vet said he thought he would be okay, to give him some time and see how he did. Pook did stop his limp after a while, but that area of his leg was permanently enlarged and always somewhat tender.
He grew to be a medium-sized longhaired black dog with his tail curling up over his back. I would defy anyone to determine his breed, for as they say these days he was truly an eclectic dog. He grew to love us and we loved him. He protected us. If a man who was not a family member he would growl, a low growl that would not stop, that could not be stopped. No matter where you put him the growl would continue, from other rooms, from behind closed doors.
He loved and tolerated us. He had to tolerate my sisters more than the rest of the family for they would dress him up and even put him in a carriage. He would sit perfectly still as the girls adorned him in either their clothes or something from their larger dolls but he would get a look in his eyes, as if to say, can you believe what I have to go through. His eyes told the true level of enjoyment he was experiencing.
Pook was with us for a long time and made the move with the family from Christie Street to Somme Street, from our days of cold water to our days of hot water. I recall especially cold winter nights on Somme Street. He would be sound asleep and, since we had no back yard where he could ‘freshen up’, he had to be walked. I remember countless nights when I would have to walk him before I could go to sleep. The night was like ice. I would say,”Pook, you have to go out!” I would have to say this a few times while nudging him. Finally, aroused from his slumber I was treated to a low throaty growl, but I finally had his attention. A little more nudging and coaxing on my part and a little more growling on his part and he would stiffly get up and be nice enough to accompany me on my walk through the cold night.
Pook was with us for a long time. He was with us through my high school years, college years, four years in the service and three years into my career. As I went through the various stages of my life, I would come home for vacation and Pook’s all black face became more and more gray. I was living in Miami and my brother and sister Judy along with her daughter were visiting me when I got the call. My mother said Pook had had a stroke and, after a few days, it was clear there was no hope. My father had to take Pook in and they put him to sleep. My mother said that my father cried. I think we all cried a little with the news; Pook was with us for so long. It was hard to remember when he wasn’t part of the family and now he was gone.
Pook was a great eclectic dog. He shared our cold and our hot water days, gave love and accepted love back. And as far as I know, my brother still carries a picture of him in his wallet.
DOGS’ TALE: A LOVE STORY
DOGS’ TALE
Our family has had two great dogs, Whitey and Millie. Whitey was my family’s second dog, an SPCA adoption. Buy first came Max, more about her later. My wife Joni found him at the SPCA and inquired about adopting him. The whole family had to drop what they were doing; I had to leave work, and my daughter Annie had to be pulled from recess, to check him out. He was about a year old and met all the qualifications, already house-broken and could tolerate cats. They paraded their test cat before Whitey to assure us he would get along with our cat Stimpy. We took this little white ball of fur home, and he’s been a great dog. He had his weaknesses, but as long as we keep the bathroom doors closed so he can’t chew up the trash, and the litter box for the cats picked up so he can’t chew other things, he’s a great pup.
After Whitey we had another fantastic dog, Millie who was with us fourteen years and who I greatly miss.
While I was growing up we also had a dog and his name was Spoofy or Pook for short. Just like Whitey, Pook was not our first family dog. In the case of my own family, the first dog we had was Maxine, or Max for short. My wife worked with a woman and her brother’s dog had pups. The mom was a pure bread German shorthaired pointer, but a dog apparently got over the fence, so the pups had no papers. We picked Max because she was the quietest pup of the litter. About a week after we brought her home we found out that her calmness was due to a full-blown case of worms. Once cured of the worms she was never the same. Unfortunately, Max never became a pet, too high strung and always wanting to roam. Our dog Whitey follows the example of our cats and sleeps most of the time, except when there is a thunderstorm. Max never stood still. We have a large backyard, and Max was constantly going under the fence into the neighboring gully. She was a hunting dog. When our neighbor put up a chicken coup next to our back fence that really got Max’s attention. She sometimes would stay overnight in the gully after crawling under the fence. Then one day, she managed to get herself hit by a car. My wife saw Max in the gully covered in blood. When she was around our family she was constantly jumping on everyone. I had to lock her in her cage when my wife came home from work for she would jump all over Joni as if Joni had been gone for years and not only twelve hours.
Then came that fateful Sunday. My wife was at work, and I was working in my garden. Annie and Lynn were in the backyard playing with Max when a neighbor from a few housed down brought her daughter Ashley, a friend of Annie’s, over and asked if Ashley could play with my girls. I said sure, the mom left, and I went back to my garden. Soon I heard a blood-curdling scream and looked up to see Ashley holding her face. Max had bitten her through her cheek and into her gum. I ran the little girl back to her house and that’s when I met her black Lab for the first time. Her dog was thankfully calmer than Max. I then met her father, the lawyer, for the first time that thankfully was calmer than most lawyers. Ashley finally removed her hand from her face, and it appeared as if someone had painted the bottom of her face with red paint. Ashley’s parents took her to the hospital immediately, the same hospital where Joni was working her weekend as an R.N. I called Joni and told her what had happened and she said she would go to the emergency room to meet them. I eventually found out what had happened. My neighbor, who saw what had occurred said that Ashley was holding a stick up and teasing Max. Max went for the stick, her aim was bad and got Ashley in the face.
We had to isolate Max for ten days in the garage and then Joni took him to the SPCA for adoption. After that experience I never thought we would have another dog but with Whitey we really got a great pup.
TO BE CONTINUED
MY LIFE WITH MILLIE AND SAM: A PETS’ STORY
Recently, my cat, Sammy (Samantha), died. She will probably be the last pet I have. And this will be the first time this house has been without a pet in about 35 years.
We’ve gone through a host of various types of animals as pets over the years. There have been lizards and snakes. I had a ball python for 25 years. We’ve had gerbils and a hamster. The hamster was found by a friend around Christmas time. The girls named it Noel. There was a hermit crab named Shelly. We have also had three dogs and four cats as pets one time or another. I’ll save most of their stories for the future.
This story will concern the last two pets who lived in this house. Millie, a fantastic dog and Sammy who would demonstrate an attitude when she wasn’t sleeping, which was most of the time. But no matter what their personality, they were part of the family.
MY LIFE WITH MILLIE AND SAM
This is a story about my dog, Millie, and my cat, Sam. Both remarkable pets.
My wife, Joni, and I adopted an SPCA dog. He was a terrier of an unknown mixture named Whitey for obvious reasons We loved him and had him for years. I would be sitting in a chair in the living room, and he would sit in front of me. I would say, “He’s coming up” and he would jump into my lap. Of course, he was white, but when he got a haircut portions of grey skin would show.
When Whitey died Joni said, “No more dogs.” Whitey’s death was grieved by the entire family.
My brother’s wife had quads, and they already had two kids at the time. We went to my brother’s house to celebrate the high school graduation of Lauren, Katie, Christopher and Andrew. All went on to get degrees, and some of the kids, advanced degrees.
When we arrived at Mike’s house the first thing he said was that we should go into the garage. He had a female Chocolate Lab named Haley. She was gaining weight, so Mike cut down on her food. His daughter, Jessica, came home from nursing school and said, “Dad, she’s pregnant.” When we walked into the garage there was Hailey nursing nine pups of various types. There were Chocolate Labs, Yellow Labs and pups colored brown and white. Mike did not know who the father was but my money is on a German Shepard. The pups were born at the beginning of June. Joni could not resist having one of these pups. Who could? At the beginning of August found Joni, my daughter, Lynn, and myself driving to my brother’s house to select one.
At that time there were seven or eight left. They were outside when we got there running around in a pack. Falling, jumping but always staying together. The pups were let into the house and we all sat down to have lunch. Joni had her eye on a Chocolate Lab named Chubs because he was the largest of the liter. As Joni was eating her lunch, and the pups were playing, a brown and white pup came and sat next to Joni. We did not pick out a pup. The pup picked us. I wanted to name her Molly, but Lynn wanted Millie. From the title of this piece, you could see who won.
POEMS & FLEETING THOUGHTS: LIFE PERFECT
LIFE PERFECT
The only place
Where life is perfect
Is in the heart
Of a dog.
Millie’s Eyes
I look into Millie’s eyes
And undying love shines through,
Unconditional love,
True love.
I look into Millie’s eyes
And devotion shines through,
No matter what I am
She’ll be mine.
I look into Millie’s eyes
And often turn away,
The glare of knowledge
Behind those eyes is frightening.
I look into Millie’s eyes
And say ‘I love you’,
And she returns her love
By offering me her paw.
For those who may be interested, there is a picture of Millie under the heading ‘Constant Companion’.
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