This is not an earth shaking story (none of them are), but I wanted to document it while I was thinking of it. I remember the first dog I ever had. I wish I could remember his name, but I do know he was a cocker spaniel. He had those long floppy ears that practically dragged on the ground. He was just a little dog, blond in color if I remember right and I loved him more than anything else at the time. I don’t know how old I was but I think it was after my sickness. We were still on Kelley Street, so it was before Floyd.
The main problem was that the little dog liked to chase cars. Every time I would let him out, he would race up and down the street and whenever a car would go by, he would bark at it and chase along beside it. He did this until one day, he was hit by one of the cars. I don’t remember what we did about it. Maybe take him to a vet or something. He might have had his leg broken, because I do remember that from that time on, he limped. But that didn’t stop him from chasing the cars. He still did it, just not quite as fast.
The first big tragedy of my life happened when I was away from town for a few days. I think I went on a school trip with my class and was gone for several days. When I got back, I looked for the dog and he was nowhere to be found. Finally, I asked my mother what happened to him and she confessed that she had given him away to another family. She had never liked the dog and said we couldn’t afford to feed him. I was so upset. I cried and carried on for some time and finally my mother told me who she had given him to.
It took me 2 or 3 weeks before I could get over to the house that now owned my dog. It was across town and I was little and just couldn’t travel the streets easily. I finally got there, though and knocked on the door of the house. The lady came to the door and I explained that I used to own “put in name of dog here” and could I see him, please. She told me, she was sorry, but almost as soon as they got him home, they let him out and he started chasing cars. This was a busier street than I lived on and my little dog was hit and killed by a car.
I had never experienced a sadder, more devastated feeling than I did that day. It took me a long time to forgive my mother and forget about by pet. Now, years later, I can’t remember his name but I can still picture him in my mind’s eye. I loved that dog a lot and in a way, still miss him.
Dad