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Today we are going to Muse about dogs and fatherly advice.  If this is your first visit, welcome to Musings. If you have been here before, welcome back. Over time we are going to talk about many things: the past, the present, perhaps the future, travel, art, society and more. Wherever my musing takes me. I hope you will come along with me.

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On the subject of Dogs

Don’t know why, but today my thoughts have gone to the dogs. I’m a dog person. I grew up with dogs. I’ve always liked them.

As I think back on the dogs that been part of my lifeI have a warm feeling, but one that often ends in sadness.

The first dog I remember was named Sport. It was a mixed breed, what we would call today a street-dog. I was about 6 years old. We lived in Kingman, Arizona which was small town America for sure. One day Sport came running home, foaming at the mouth in distress. He had eaten poison someone had put out, probably for coyotes. He ran off and died in a wash about a half mile from our house. Dad found him. Sad.

After Sport died, my older brother used some money he earned on his paper routes and bought a female Collie we called Lady. I loved Lady. She and I were constant companions. She became my dog. She would follow me wherever I went. She especially liked to follow me when I “rode” my brother’s bike.

I was too small to reach the pedals or to get on the bike without an aid. Fortunately we lived on a small hill. I would take the bike and a bucket up the street. The bucket became my step which allowed me to climb onto the bike and coast down the hill. I could make it about six blocks before I came to a stop. Lady would run along side the whole way and then walk with me as I brought back the bike.

My folks were concerned Lady would go into heat and we would be dealing with randy dogs and then puppies. They decided to have Lady spayed. In those days there was no veterinarian in town so they talked with our family doctor who agreed to perform the procedure. He came over and Dad cleared off a work table in the garage to be used for the operation. Mom, Dad and I were present watching.

The doctor misjudged the amount of ether a small animal would need and Lady died on the table. I was devastated, sobbing uncontrollably. Also sad.

After that we went a while without a dog.

We moved to California and eventually I wore my parents down and they agreed to let me have a dog. We went through several. Tippy was from the pound and a nice little dog but a runner. After being retrieved a number of times from the pound, Dad just let hime go.

Next was a German Shepard. I have forgotten its name. It was fiercely protective of the family to the point that we could not have friends over without locking up the dog. It bit the milk man and threatened anyone who came to our yard. We eventually gave it to a rancher who lived in a rural area and I heard the dog was quite happy protecting the livestock.

Since then I have had many dogs, if I count correctly, 10. They all lived a full life and when their time was up I was saddened to lose them.

So, to those who do not know him, let me introduce TEDDY

Today we have a charmer.

He is watchful.

He is inquisitive.

And, he likes television.

He also has a job.

Teddy has decided he is the morning greeter. Just before 7am everyday he hops onto the bed and he comes over to where I am sleeping. He sits like a vulture over me, watching for any sign of awakening. If I move or blink my eyes he is on me in a flash, licking my face, my ears, my neck. ITS TIME TO GET UP!

That’s Teddy.

As to fatherly advice

Recently a friend and I were talking about parents, children and relationships. It brought to mind my Dad, who led by example but seldom offered “words of wisdom”.

When I was about to leave home for college Dad sat down with me for a fatherly chat, to offer advice as I prepared to leave the fold. It has stuck in my mind because it was so unusual. Up to this point our relationship had definitely been parent-child.

Among other things, he said, “If you make a promise, keep it. And, if you borrow money, be sure to pay it back.”

He went on to relate his experience. He had been an officer in the Marine Corps in the Pacific during World War II.

At the conclusion of Officers Candidate School (OCS), the men were preparing to ship out to their respective assignments. They were to leave the following morning. One Marine Dad knew wanted to go to the local dance but he had no money. He asked Dad to lend him 50 cents, promising him he would pay it back the following morning. Morning came and the Marine was gone and there was no pay back.

Dad said, “I met him again thirty years later at a business meeting. All I could think was The SOB owes me 50 cents!

more to come

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