dogs i have known (and loved)
(Our beloved Bubbles with us in Ephraim)With the best-selling book "Marley and Me" coming out soon in movie form, and with a short break from work before me, I have decided to try my hand at telling the stories of several of our family's well-loved, mostly dumb dogs, for you, my beloved blog readers.
Syd would tell you most dog books end in sadness. This summer he was assigned to read "Where the Red Fern Grows", "Old Yeller" and "Sounder." The sounds of grief coming from the backseat of the car soon turned into anger at the authors. "I can't take it anymore!" he said, throwing down a book. "Why must all these books be so sad?!"
Steve and I began listening to "Marley and Me" on a road trip with the boys. It took us over a month to listen to all 12 cd's but we were committed, completing it as we painted our kitchen together. We both cried as we heard of Marley's demise and death, and seriously I can't remember painting that kitchen without thinking of Marley. Dog stories will do that to you.
The first family dog we had was a beagle named Freckles when I was 2 years old and we lived in Lansing, Michigan. He soon went blind and we had to put him to sleep. I think his blindness had to do with the trial vaccinations my dad got from the Michigan State vet school. After Freckles, we got a chocolate poodle when I was three and we were living in Lexington, Kentucky. She had several names, depending on who you asked in the family. My mom called her Coco. My brothers and I called her Brown Girl. Brown Girl bit a neighbor girl, and was then given away.
Finally in my childhood, we obtained the dog in Kentucky who would grow up with me and my brothers. Bubbles, pictured above as a puppy, was a cream-colored poodle who endured much during our childhood in Springfield, Illinois and our move to Austin.
Tomorrow, the story of Bubbles will be told, from her pulling us on our Schwinn bicycles down neighborhood sidewalks to her bringing us the dead bunnies that she had killed from the neighbor's hutch. She was one fine animal. A true huntress, stoic and motherly. Not bitchy at all in personality - rare in a poodle. I think part of it had to do with the name my brother Tim bestowed on her - her full registered name being Sally's (after my mother) Bubbles Maximillian. I think it came from a Richie Rich comic book.
Syd would tell you most dog books end in sadness. This summer he was assigned to read "Where the Red Fern Grows", "Old Yeller" and "Sounder." The sounds of grief coming from the backseat of the car soon turned into anger at the authors. "I can't take it anymore!" he said, throwing down a book. "Why must all these books be so sad?!"
Steve and I began listening to "Marley and Me" on a road trip with the boys. It took us over a month to listen to all 12 cd's but we were committed, completing it as we painted our kitchen together. We both cried as we heard of Marley's demise and death, and seriously I can't remember painting that kitchen without thinking of Marley. Dog stories will do that to you.
The first family dog we had was a beagle named Freckles when I was 2 years old and we lived in Lansing, Michigan. He soon went blind and we had to put him to sleep. I think his blindness had to do with the trial vaccinations my dad got from the Michigan State vet school. After Freckles, we got a chocolate poodle when I was three and we were living in Lexington, Kentucky. She had several names, depending on who you asked in the family. My mom called her Coco. My brothers and I called her Brown Girl. Brown Girl bit a neighbor girl, and was then given away.
Finally in my childhood, we obtained the dog in Kentucky who would grow up with me and my brothers. Bubbles, pictured above as a puppy, was a cream-colored poodle who endured much during our childhood in Springfield, Illinois and our move to Austin.
Tomorrow, the story of Bubbles will be told, from her pulling us on our Schwinn bicycles down neighborhood sidewalks to her bringing us the dead bunnies that she had killed from the neighbor's hutch. She was one fine animal. A true huntress, stoic and motherly. Not bitchy at all in personality - rare in a poodle. I think part of it had to do with the name my brother Tim bestowed on her - her full registered name being Sally's (after my mother) Bubbles Maximillian. I think it came from a Richie Rich comic book.