No Bones About It

Before we had kids, we trained on dogs (hamsters, too- till the mom ate all her newborns), so you never met our first babies, Easy and then Oink.

Still, you had your fair share of dogs growing up, well at least in your early years. Midnight, a Black Lab, was the first, I think. He was wonderful with you kids. You were around 2 when we got him, and he was perfectly patient with you. Once I remember you grabbed some scissors and were trying to cut his ear. He didn't even growl. Never a growl for you. But when I would bid him come in or go outside when he wasn't fond of my timing, I thought I'd be eaten alive.

Let's see, would Frog the Dog have been next in the lineup? Think so. Tiniest, cutest little something or other. Just a cuddle bug. Not. Looks can be deceiving. This mutt could rip your throat out, had he been able to reach it. He barked, and his bite was just as bad as his bark. We gave him to some friends who gave him to some friends who nobody has ever seen since. No, wait! I think the story goes that they got in trouble with Animal Control because Frog bit someone. Ribbit Ribbit.

Next came Hickory. Stunning Red Irish Setter. My diamond didn't shine as much as his coat. He was beautiful. Got him from a young woman who just couldn't handle him, even though she'd sent him to obedience school. He was convinced he was the eternal puppy, and lived to sit on people's laps. I never saw my Dad laugh as much as when he would come to visit and see this huge dog back himself into assorted laps. He would be sitting straight up, rear ensconced but front legs vertical, his head far above the designated lap's head, just waiting to be petted. He would do this all the time---even to 1 1/2 year old Jared---he'd just go plop down on top of him and think that was the natural order of things! Obviously Jared survived.

Hickory was a sweetheart. However, he was a boy, and would knock you down and kill you if you opened the front door when he was around. He had carousing in his blood and nothing and no one could stop him. Often I would put you kids in the car and spend the entire day chasing around after that blasted creature. One time it was raining and Hickory was running around town with a couple of other canine cohorts. I gave chase in the car, jumping out now and then to open the car door when I thought I had him cornered. All of a sudden the other many muddy dogs jumped in the little Subaru. Had to move heaven and earth to get them out. Arghhhh! Many times I would meet your Dad at the door in tears, moaning and groaning about how awful my day had been. No sympathy- he didn't get it.

Until. One Saturday he happened to be home when surprise---guess who shoved someone aside and raced out the door? We all got in the yellow car to give chase. Dad would corner the dog in a parking lot or field, only to have him slip by at the last second. It got more and more dramatic, if yelling and cussing are any indication. Have to admit I enjoyed sitting there and watching someone else go through all the gyrations and frustrations that had been my life up to that point. Eventually, we had to give him away---the dog, not your Dad---because the neighbors got to the end of their ropes, having him tear through their yards and gardens.

Then there was Puffy, little tiny black puffball of a dog. Cute as a button, quiet, no trouble. Finally the perfect dog. "And they lived happily ever after", right? Right. Until. One night Dad was taking you older kids to a movie, maybe even a Drive-In, while I stayed with the baby of the moment. Evidently he didn't see Puffy in time and ran right over him. Didn't tell you guys till you got back home, though. Guess he thought tears could wait. And that was the end of the family dog roster for many many years.