We had three dogs while I was growing up. The first dog was a beagle mix we named Tinkerbelle. We got her when I was in Kindergarten. She was allowed to wander around, and she went into the road and was hit and killed down the road from our house. We three children were heartbroken, and we cried and cried for days. My father buried her in the woods and covered her burial place with bricks.
Our second dog, Tippie, was a collie mix. If we let her out by herself, she kept running away from home, so my father made a run where she could be kept on a chain outside and not runaway. However, then she barked and barked, and the neighbors complained, so she was given away to someone out in the country.
The third dog, the dog we grew up with for the rest of our lives, was Sissy was also a collie mix that the neighbors, the Geers, who were Joanne’s godparents got for her, because she loved the collie Lassie on the television show. She really didn’t look much like a collie. She had a long snout like a collie and was tan and white with semi-long hair. She was such a good dog. She didn’t wander away and didn’t bark unless a strange car pulled in the driveway. We got her on Oct. 4, the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, so she was named Assisi, nicknamed Sissy. She loved my grandfather most of all and he loved her. He would pet her and say, “Oh, if only you could talk.” He talked to her all the time when he came through the woods to visit and when he came in my Uncle Donald’s car, Sissy never barked at the car because she knew Grandpa was coming.
Sissy was allowed in the house more than the other dogs had been, but she could only stay in the kitchen. Sometimes she would try to sneak into the living room, but she also was made to go back into the kitchen. When my grandfather walked through the woods to visit, if he walked back, my mother had to keep Sissy in the house because she would follow him back into the woods.
My mother had a bell on the back porch which she rang when it was time to come inside. The bell was for us and for my father, but Sissy knew what it meant, too. If she didn’t want to come in, she would go behind a tree and put her face against the tree so that she couldn’t see my mother and she thought that she was hiding from my mother. However, she didn’t realize that her hind end was in plain view and that my mother could see her. So my mother would call her and eventually she would come in.
The night my grandfather died, my brother went out to the back hall where Sissy slept and hugged her and cried, telling her that Grandpa wasn’t coming back to see her anymore. For months after Grandpa died, whenever my Uncle Don’s car pulled into the driveway, she would get very excited and wait for Grandpa to emerge from the car. She seemed so disappointed and confused when he didn’t get out of the car. It was really sad.
Sissy lived to a ripe old age, but she got arthritis. My parents tried to make her as comfortable as possible, but eventually she had the disease so badly that she couldn’t walk up and down the back porch stairs. When that day came, my brother took her to the vet to have have put to sleep. He cried and cried after that.
My parents didn’t have a pet for a while after that. Some years later, my brother brought them a puppy from a litter he had in North Carolina. He was a black lab mix that my father named Duke, after John Wayne’s nickname. My father loved that dog and Duke was allowed in the house more than any dog had been. He stayed on a chain when he was outside and it was long enough that he could roam around quite a lot. Pat loved the dog too, and took care of him when he moved home after my father died. Unfortunately, my mother gave Duke a bone to chew on and it pierced his intestines and he got peritonitis and died suddenly. My brother was quite shaken up by Duke’s death, as it happened when my brother was stricken at the same time with a case of gout. My mother complained about having to let Duke in and out and sweeping up dog hair, but although she had arthritis, he was good for her and her health went downhill more quickly after Duke died.
I loved all our pets, and today I try to keep my pets healthy and happy, because they make me happy and keep me healthy.
Our second dog, Tippie, was a collie mix. If we let her out by herself, she kept running away from home, so my father made a run where she could be kept on a chain outside and not runaway. However, then she barked and barked, and the neighbors complained, so she was given away to someone out in the country.
The third dog, the dog we grew up with for the rest of our lives, was Sissy was also a collie mix that the neighbors, the Geers, who were Joanne’s godparents got for her, because she loved the collie Lassie on the television show. She really didn’t look much like a collie. She had a long snout like a collie and was tan and white with semi-long hair. She was such a good dog. She didn’t wander away and didn’t bark unless a strange car pulled in the driveway. We got her on Oct. 4, the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, so she was named Assisi, nicknamed Sissy. She loved my grandfather most of all and he loved her. He would pet her and say, “Oh, if only you could talk.” He talked to her all the time when he came through the woods to visit and when he came in my Uncle Donald’s car, Sissy never barked at the car because she knew Grandpa was coming.
Sissy was allowed in the house more than the other dogs had been, but she could only stay in the kitchen. Sometimes she would try to sneak into the living room, but she also was made to go back into the kitchen. When my grandfather walked through the woods to visit, if he walked back, my mother had to keep Sissy in the house because she would follow him back into the woods.
My mother had a bell on the back porch which she rang when it was time to come inside. The bell was for us and for my father, but Sissy knew what it meant, too. If she didn’t want to come in, she would go behind a tree and put her face against the tree so that she couldn’t see my mother and she thought that she was hiding from my mother. However, she didn’t realize that her hind end was in plain view and that my mother could see her. So my mother would call her and eventually she would come in.
The night my grandfather died, my brother went out to the back hall where Sissy slept and hugged her and cried, telling her that Grandpa wasn’t coming back to see her anymore. For months after Grandpa died, whenever my Uncle Don’s car pulled into the driveway, she would get very excited and wait for Grandpa to emerge from the car. She seemed so disappointed and confused when he didn’t get out of the car. It was really sad.
Sissy lived to a ripe old age, but she got arthritis. My parents tried to make her as comfortable as possible, but eventually she had the disease so badly that she couldn’t walk up and down the back porch stairs. When that day came, my brother took her to the vet to have have put to sleep. He cried and cried after that.
My parents didn’t have a pet for a while after that. Some years later, my brother brought them a puppy from a litter he had in North Carolina. He was a black lab mix that my father named Duke, after John Wayne’s nickname. My father loved that dog and Duke was allowed in the house more than any dog had been. He stayed on a chain when he was outside and it was long enough that he could roam around quite a lot. Pat loved the dog too, and took care of him when he moved home after my father died. Unfortunately, my mother gave Duke a bone to chew on and it pierced his intestines and he got peritonitis and died suddenly. My brother was quite shaken up by Duke’s death, as it happened when my brother was stricken at the same time with a case of gout. My mother complained about having to let Duke in and out and sweeping up dog hair, but although she had arthritis, he was good for her and her health went downhill more quickly after Duke died.
I loved all our pets, and today I try to keep my pets healthy and happy, because they make me happy and keep me healthy.
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