PUPPY DOGS - LARGE AND SMALL - LOVE 'EM ALL

     

 

My Old Friend Misty in Her Bed on the Sailboat.

Dogs are wonderful animals and I've been involved with quite a few of them over the years. I've had short ones, tall ones, huge ones, teeny ones, hairy ones, not so hairy ones, also nice ones and not so nice ones but hey, like us, they all have their own personalities. One of the first dogs I had was Skippy, a congenial cocker spaniel pup that my folks gave me for Christmas when I was just an early teen. Not sure how it happened but not even a month had gone by when I came home from school one day and no one was home. Upon opening the door, I called out, "Skippy!" As usual, we were both happy to be reunited as he came running up to me, his big brown eyes glistening with happiness and wagging his tail furiously. Not yet fully house-trained, he had widdled on the floor and I remember scolding him until he started walking in a peculiar stiff manner and then fell over on his side. I could feel my heart breaking as I rushed to him, then held him in my arms and watched him die, apparently from eating poison. After I carried Skippy downstairs to the basement, I laid him on the cement floor and then sat down on one of the bottom stairs, tears streaming down my face. As the sunlight beamed through a window warming his still body, I thought I saw his chest rise, I was sure of it - Skippy was breathing - he was alive! It wasn't until I rushed over and stroked his warm body and gently pulled his long ears that I realized it was only my imagination or wishful thinking that had brought Skippy miraculously back to life momentarily. 

           It was a long time, not until I was married, before another dog became part of the household. It was a small, short-haired, a Heinz 57 dog, mostly terrier as far as I could tell. Our two young daughters fell instantly in love with the dog and the three of them were constant companions. Of course, since the dog had brown hair, the girls named her Brownie. Unfortunately, we hadn't had the dog for very long when the kids came rushing into the house bawling their eyes out. Although we lived on a not very busy street, the little dog had been hit by a passing car and killed. She wasn't a pretty sight as I gathered her shattered, bloody body up in my arms and put her inside a cardboard box. As I write this blog, I'm just realizing the amount of dogs that passed through my life, quite a few of them coming to bad endings like the next dog, a black short-haired part-terrier named Salty. He was a highly comical dog. When he laid on his back and I rubbed his chest gently and howled mournfully in his ear, he would begin to howl too and then he would rush to the front door. Well...what can I say, one afternoon when I opened the door to let him out, he ran howling out into the street and got nipped by a passing vehicle. I thought the dog had been knocked unconscious, since the car barely seemed to touch him but although he looked as if he was taking a nap on the side of the road, he was dead. The next dog was a German Shepherd. She had been trained as a guard dog and because my commercial art shop was in an area that was broken into on a regular basis, I thought she would scare the bejeezus out of a burglar. Anyway, long story short, I came into the shop one morning and somehow, Thumper had managed to hang herself and rigor mortis had set in - one of her back legs was stretched to the limit so that only her toes barely touched the floor. The next dog to arrive was Misty, another wee brown dog, which looked like part-terrier and part-dachshund. Cars and dogs just don't seem to get along and one day while I was working in the garage on some artwork, it wasn't until I heard the girls screaming at the bottom of our driveway that I became very alarmed. Expecting the worst, that one of the kids (3 girls now) had been hit by a car, I ran to them as quickly as my bony white legs would carry me. The kids were standing by the edge of the road with horrified expressions on their faces as they looked down at their small dog, her tiny back leg obviously broken. When we rushed her to the vet, he told us that her leg was broken in three places and as far as he could tell, the rest of her was in tact. When he told me, it would cost about a thousand dollars to fix the leg, what could I do? When three teary-eyed little girls are looking up at you, the fate of their little dog in my hands, I gladly paid the money and Misty actually lived to a ripe old age before passing away. 

Rachel and Misty

          When I lived on my sailboat Dreamer II, a little Malti-poo, curly white-haired dog became my first mate. A girlfriend at the time had bought her, the runt of the litter. The dog had a wonderful disposition, wasn't yappy like a lot of smaller dogs and she thought she was tough too - yeah - tough like a marshmallow. She loved the boat life and the water. All I had to say was, "Get in the boat," and she would fly out of the aft hatch and jump into the dinghy, which was tied to the wharf. She too was poisoned from eating tainted dog food that the company recalled and although she didn't die, only became quite sick, she was never quite the same again. When I gave up the boat life, little Misty had a profound effect on one of Sarah's girls and if not for the dog, chances are Sarah and I may never have been married. She loved that little dog and used to dress her up in clothes. Misty lived for about 16 years before she became really sick and basically refused to eat. As she grew weaker and weaker, her weight dropping substantially, one warm sunny morning after I had taken Misty outside to do her business, as I held her in my arms and she looked up at me, I realized that she most likely wouldn't make it before the kids got home from school. We all knew she was dying and realizing it would be hard on Rachel, I told her, she should go and see her where she was lying in her little bed in the kitchen. The girls had barely gone to school, when I sat down on the floor next to Misty and gently stroked her brow and rubbed her ears. I was really surprised when she lifted her head and howled and then died a few minutes later. Of all the dogs I've had in my life, I'd have to say she was my favourite and to this day, about10 years having gone by, I still really miss my little dog. 

           There have been other dogs since then but they were basically outside farm dogs to protect the livestock from the wild critters that live around our place, not get-in-your-way, pampered house pets. At the moment, we don't have a dog and Sarah has been saying she would like to get another one, another Misty ideally. We've considered buying a Malti-poo to take with us on our cross-Canada 2019 road-trip but they are not affordable. Hmm, I wonder if I could trade a painting for one or does anyone have a small, house-trained dog they would like re-home?

          I realize dogs aren't for everyone - many people preferring cats and I've had a few of those in my life as well. However, to me, you just can't beat a dog for loyalty or good company, a cat, something that's covered in dried spit from continually licking itself all over, leaves a bit to be desired in my opinion. Although my Sarah is wonderful company, it might be nice to get another dog...peace, eh! - Trip

 My wife and I recently started up an Etsy Store a little while ago and if you'd like to check out our artistic creations just click on the link.