Top of the morning, Missians! (At least when I started this, it was morning).
Hope this Monday finds everyone well. As promised, this is my second installment to my post about all the special dogs I've known in my life. This entry is about two dogs that came into my life shortly after my grandfather passed away, when I was seven years old. They both had the most beautiful, shiny black coats I'd ever seen. They just appeared in our back yard about a week to a month after my grandfather's funeral. They were both adult dogs--one a boy and the other a girl (we assume, brother and sister). The male's coat was curly and the female's was sleek.
Being a young child, I didn't have any limitations on what were acceptable boy and girl names, so I named the male dog, Practical and the female, Percy. Since they decided to set up shop in our backyard, my mom started feeding them and they became our dogs. Bringing animals in the house was a no-no at that time, (due to my grandmother's general dislike of animals), so Practical and Percy were outdoor pets--but our pets none-the-less. My mom and I took an instant liking to the dogs, and the feeling was mutual.
I took the utmost joy in sneaking out slices of bologna and wieners from the refrigerator and tossing them to each of the dogs. My mom wasn't as fond of this practice, but being the easy going person she is, she usually got over it fairly quickly. Practical and Percy didn't seem to mind at all. Being the mischievous little girl I could be at times, I remember one time, experimenting in coloring Percy's fur with orange flavored punch my mom would buy in this skinny carton. I just remember dousing Percy's fur with some of the juice, and being delighted that it left part of her fur with an orange tint. Mercifully for Practical, he was off on some adventure that day, so he was spared the bad dye job. To pay me back, though, Percy later bit my fingers while I foolishly attempted to feed her something out of my hand (it was more like karma, I suppose, because she was too sweet to have held anything against me).
Percy was the first to pass away. I can't remember now if she got hit by a car or she just came up sick, but eventually went to Rainbow Bridge (my mom didn't have any vet money, though I do remember she tried to tend to her as best she could). We buried Percy in our backyard; but a few days later, Practical dug her up and brought her back to our back steps. She was his sister, and I suppose he was having a hard time accepting she was gone. My mom buried her again; and I believe the second time he let her stay a bit longer, but he eventually dug her up a second time. I remember at the time I didn't understand why Practical was doing this and my mom having to explain it to me. My mom buried Percy a third time in a different spot, and after thinking we were safe this time, Practical eventually unburied what was left of her once again--much to my mom's frustration. I don't remember what eventually stopped Practical (because I assume my mom did bury Percy a fourth time). But I do know after the last time, it was no longer an issue. Perhaps he had finally accepted that his sister was not coming back.
Practical himself lived for what seemed to be at least the remainder of my elementary school years. He would follow me to the bus stop and wait with me and my mom until my bus came. He was also very protective of me, growling at my mom when she'd comb my hair on the back porch, (I was extremely tender-headed and would cry as though someone was killing me when I got my hair combed). Many times she would have to bring me back in the house for fear that he was about to "go cujo" on her.
It's been so long ago now since I was in elementary school, that some of my memories of Practical and Percy have faded. But I can still see them in my mind (especially Percy for some reason), and I still remember the love I felt for them (and they for me). So this post is dedicated to Practical and Percy. I love you both and hope you are with Boomer being my doggie guardian angels. Until we meet again........(which I hope is no time soon).
Stay tuned for the third installment about Chase (who wasn't technically my dog), but I loved him as such.
Until next time, Missians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hope this Monday finds everyone well. As promised, this is my second installment to my post about all the special dogs I've known in my life. This entry is about two dogs that came into my life shortly after my grandfather passed away, when I was seven years old. They both had the most beautiful, shiny black coats I'd ever seen. They just appeared in our back yard about a week to a month after my grandfather's funeral. They were both adult dogs--one a boy and the other a girl (we assume, brother and sister). The male's coat was curly and the female's was sleek.
Being a young child, I didn't have any limitations on what were acceptable boy and girl names, so I named the male dog, Practical and the female, Percy. Since they decided to set up shop in our backyard, my mom started feeding them and they became our dogs. Bringing animals in the house was a no-no at that time, (due to my grandmother's general dislike of animals), so Practical and Percy were outdoor pets--but our pets none-the-less. My mom and I took an instant liking to the dogs, and the feeling was mutual.
I took the utmost joy in sneaking out slices of bologna and wieners from the refrigerator and tossing them to each of the dogs. My mom wasn't as fond of this practice, but being the easy going person she is, she usually got over it fairly quickly. Practical and Percy didn't seem to mind at all. Being the mischievous little girl I could be at times, I remember one time, experimenting in coloring Percy's fur with orange flavored punch my mom would buy in this skinny carton. I just remember dousing Percy's fur with some of the juice, and being delighted that it left part of her fur with an orange tint. Mercifully for Practical, he was off on some adventure that day, so he was spared the bad dye job. To pay me back, though, Percy later bit my fingers while I foolishly attempted to feed her something out of my hand (it was more like karma, I suppose, because she was too sweet to have held anything against me).
Percy was the first to pass away. I can't remember now if she got hit by a car or she just came up sick, but eventually went to Rainbow Bridge (my mom didn't have any vet money, though I do remember she tried to tend to her as best she could). We buried Percy in our backyard; but a few days later, Practical dug her up and brought her back to our back steps. She was his sister, and I suppose he was having a hard time accepting she was gone. My mom buried her again; and I believe the second time he let her stay a bit longer, but he eventually dug her up a second time. I remember at the time I didn't understand why Practical was doing this and my mom having to explain it to me. My mom buried Percy a third time in a different spot, and after thinking we were safe this time, Practical eventually unburied what was left of her once again--much to my mom's frustration. I don't remember what eventually stopped Practical (because I assume my mom did bury Percy a fourth time). But I do know after the last time, it was no longer an issue. Perhaps he had finally accepted that his sister was not coming back.
Practical himself lived for what seemed to be at least the remainder of my elementary school years. He would follow me to the bus stop and wait with me and my mom until my bus came. He was also very protective of me, growling at my mom when she'd comb my hair on the back porch, (I was extremely tender-headed and would cry as though someone was killing me when I got my hair combed). Many times she would have to bring me back in the house for fear that he was about to "go cujo" on her.
It's been so long ago now since I was in elementary school, that some of my memories of Practical and Percy have faded. But I can still see them in my mind (especially Percy for some reason), and I still remember the love I felt for them (and they for me). So this post is dedicated to Practical and Percy. I love you both and hope you are with Boomer being my doggie guardian angels. Until we meet again........(which I hope is no time soon).
Stay tuned for the third installment about Chase (who wasn't technically my dog), but I loved him as such.
Until next time, Missians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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