Oct. 8: Lexie likes to cuddle
Our family was a dog family. For as long as I remember, we had dogs.
My dad had a St. Bernard named Saint when I was born. After that we had
three Spankys in rapid succession. Then there was another St. Bernard,
this one named Lobo. Lobo was followed by a collie named Sheltie. Then
it was a shih tzu named Gizmo. Today, my parents have a golden lab named
Kipper. That means I had eight dogs throughout my 41 years. I guess
each dog lasts an average of 5.18 years.
Of the eight dogs, Gizmo and Kipper have lasted the longest. Kipper's been with my dad for 10 years. We got Gizmo in the fall of 1987 and she lasted until shortly before we got Kipper. Darn it all, that pup made it to 15 years.
My dad used to pretend he didn't like Gizmo. He'd always say he wanted to trade her in for a "real dog", which meant a big dog like a great dane or a German Shepherd. But Gizmo stayed. She lasted longer than any other dog we had. My dad would be working in his den and Gizmo would curl up at his feet and then my dad would throw some dog treats into the nearby family room and Gizmo would go scampering in there for a treat.
I used to wrestle Gizmo. I could get her all worked up, make her snarl and yap and go racing across the living room. Once she was sufficiently worked up, I would lie down and Gizmo would attack my wrists. (By attack, I mean she'd close her jaws around my wrists and snarl. She never bit although I imagine she could have done a lot of damage had she wanted to. She was a good dog.)
My brother, who lives near my father, also has a dog - a black lab named Coogee. I am not sure if Coogee and Kipper are friends; I get conflicting reports from my dad, my mom and my brother. I have seen them wrestle and they seem happy together.
My brother once said that his dog is a great communicator. He knows when she wants to make him feel better and when she wants to eat his steak. The funny thing is the dog can't speak English yet she's probably a better communicator than I am. Actually, it's probably pretty easy to tell how a dog is feeling. Just look at their tail.
Back in the days of Sheltie (ages 10-14) I decided I wanted to spend a night sleeping in the little wood storage area between our garage and the fence. After my dad granted me permission, I got a sleeping bag and an air mattress and pitched camp. I knew I'd have nothing to fear. Sheltie would keep me company.
And he did. Usually, he slept on or in his doghouse. But that one night, he curled up on my sleeping bag and he kept me safe. I slept soundly that night, knowing that if a bad guy came into our yard, Sheltie would die so that I would live.
This note is called "Lexie likes to cuddle." I am told that Lexie is a dog. Since he or she likes to cuddle, I imagine that Lexie's owners are happy with their pet.
I'm an apartment dweller. As such, I do not own a dog. I haven't been able to have one since I moved out in 1999. I've never been ready for that sort of commitment.
But I don't begrudge the dog owners that I know. Puppies are good friends. Hooray for Lexie, wherever he or she might be.
Lexie likes to cuddle. Lexie is a dog.
Of the eight dogs, Gizmo and Kipper have lasted the longest. Kipper's been with my dad for 10 years. We got Gizmo in the fall of 1987 and she lasted until shortly before we got Kipper. Darn it all, that pup made it to 15 years.
My dad used to pretend he didn't like Gizmo. He'd always say he wanted to trade her in for a "real dog", which meant a big dog like a great dane or a German Shepherd. But Gizmo stayed. She lasted longer than any other dog we had. My dad would be working in his den and Gizmo would curl up at his feet and then my dad would throw some dog treats into the nearby family room and Gizmo would go scampering in there for a treat.
I used to wrestle Gizmo. I could get her all worked up, make her snarl and yap and go racing across the living room. Once she was sufficiently worked up, I would lie down and Gizmo would attack my wrists. (By attack, I mean she'd close her jaws around my wrists and snarl. She never bit although I imagine she could have done a lot of damage had she wanted to. She was a good dog.)
My brother, who lives near my father, also has a dog - a black lab named Coogee. I am not sure if Coogee and Kipper are friends; I get conflicting reports from my dad, my mom and my brother. I have seen them wrestle and they seem happy together.
My brother once said that his dog is a great communicator. He knows when she wants to make him feel better and when she wants to eat his steak. The funny thing is the dog can't speak English yet she's probably a better communicator than I am. Actually, it's probably pretty easy to tell how a dog is feeling. Just look at their tail.
Back in the days of Sheltie (ages 10-14) I decided I wanted to spend a night sleeping in the little wood storage area between our garage and the fence. After my dad granted me permission, I got a sleeping bag and an air mattress and pitched camp. I knew I'd have nothing to fear. Sheltie would keep me company.
And he did. Usually, he slept on or in his doghouse. But that one night, he curled up on my sleeping bag and he kept me safe. I slept soundly that night, knowing that if a bad guy came into our yard, Sheltie would die so that I would live.
This note is called "Lexie likes to cuddle." I am told that Lexie is a dog. Since he or she likes to cuddle, I imagine that Lexie's owners are happy with their pet.
I'm an apartment dweller. As such, I do not own a dog. I haven't been able to have one since I moved out in 1999. I've never been ready for that sort of commitment.
But I don't begrudge the dog owners that I know. Puppies are good friends. Hooray for Lexie, wherever he or she might be.
Lexie likes to cuddle. Lexie is a dog.
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