Growing up I always had a dog. When I was very little, our family dog was a terrier mash up called Do-Do. He was thusly named because the first day we got him, as a puppy, my Mom gave him a bowl of milk and he started to back up all over the kitchen until he stumbled backwards into the bowl and pooped right in the milk. My Mom said, "What a do-do!" and the name stuck. Do-Do was my buddy. We grew up together. He was also an escape artist. Given an inch of open door, he would take off like a bat out of hell and be gone all day. He always returned but not before he found something completely vile to roll around in. His pride in his own stink was awesome. As was the defeat of the inevitable bath that was awaiting him. Occasionally, Do-Do would get caught by the Animal Control officer. Actually, more than occasionally. He would get caught so much the officer knew where he lived and started to just bring him home rather than take him to the Humane Society. My Dad appreciated not having to pay the fine for having a loose dog. Do-Do lived a long time. Long enough to move into our new house in 1970 and learned the lay out of a whole new neighborhood. Though he was far from the beloved, horrid smells of rotting alewives at Lake Michigan he found a whole new set of disgusting smells to roll around in at Lincoln Park. I swear that dog had more baths in his lifetime! He lived to an old ripe age and was loved every minute of it. When he was gone, my Mom avowed to never have another dog again. And we didn't until I was in college.
I got a call from my sister. She brought home a dog thinking her husband would be thrilled. He wasn't and now she had to get rid of it. I was house sitting for another sister so she brought it over to me for the time being. The time being meant long enough for me to fall in love with this ugly looking mutt she brought in. His named was Dudley. I called my Mom to beg her to let me keep him. She was dead set against it but my dear Dad intervened and talked her into it so Dudley came home to stay. He also became one of the most important characters in my life. I took him everywhere. He slept in my bed, ate off my plate, sat on my lap and just stayed at my side. He was another terrier mix, like Do-Do but he was no escape artist. If he got out alone he took his own sweet time stopping to smell the roses. He could be gone an hour before we'd notice and when we'd look outside he wouldn't even had made it to the gate. He loved taking it all in. He was so sweet that way. Dudley was often the only one I could tell my deepest secrets too. When my Dad passed away, Dudley's fur bore the brunt of my tears. Sometimes he would just lie next to me and gently place a paw on my cheek as if to tell me it was all going to be alright. My Mom professed her hatred for this dog but every morning she'd be in the kitchen making Dudley a piece of toast with butter and cheese and she'd always insist that I mix the extra gravy or green beans into his food. When I moved to Chicago, Dudley stayed behind. I wasn't allowed to have a dog where I lived. Dudley and mom were together at home for a long time. Finally, Dudley got old and infirmed and my sister had him put down. I still have his collar and tags and I'll always keep them.
Now, I have cats. I love them just as much as I have loved any of my pets but I have to admit there are marked differences. I want a dog and I wish I could get one but once again I am in a place where the landlord won't allow it. One day though, I know I will have another dog. I just can't see life without it. And, frankly, I don't understand people who don't like dogs! How can you not like a dog?
No comments:
Post a Comment