My Dogs

My first dog was a run-away who ended upon  the porch of my brother's friends  house. They couldn't  keep him because not only was he a big dog, but they had no yard to speak of, and someone in the family was allergic. That's why  his next stop was our house; we had a big back yard and were between cats at the time. I remember sitting on the sofa while watching TV when this dog came galumphing through the house, scaring the bejeezus out of me (I was always a cat person), then on to the dining room where he curled up at my Mom's feet, apparently happy to stay if we would have him.

So stay he did; my Dad hooked up a sturdy line that connected the house to the garage, and when we tethered Bo to it he had the ability to go 25 feet between the two and another 18 feet from side to side. Still, that wasn't enough room for him to roam. That Summer Dad fixed the gaps in the fence which made things a little better.

Bo was a cross between an Alaskan Malamute and a German Shepherd with the breadth of the first and the markings of the second. I would take him on long walks with me around the Boulevard so I could see the sunset from the corner of W. Highland Drive and 8th Pl. W, then on to Kerry Park to see downtown Seattle's lights turn on. Next we made our way home back up the 6 or 7 blocks to my back door.
[Later, after I was laid low with MS this same route was the one I used to work my way out of the wheelchair.]

Someday I'll tell you more Bo stories,


Jay Jay was the next dog we got. JJ was a yellow Lab. Retriever. He started out as dad's hunting dog, but Dad was a mean trainer and they never bonded. He ended up being a pet, and not really a memorable one either. My brother tells me that he ran away. And that as they say, was that.


Sheba was a gift to my brother. She was a black Lab/Shepherd cross bought from the pound. I have no really stand-out memories of her except that she peed in the house. She peed at the foot of the stairs, she peed when my aunt would come over cooing at her; I never could get my aunt to just ignore her for a few minutes until she settled down. I was left with soaking up a trail of dribbles. Argh!  Sheba was the walker my Dad mentioned in the last post . .  . (heh heh)


After I got married and moved to Lacey, WA we got a rescue dog from Concern for Animals. She was a buff Cocker Spaniel that we named Galadriel. She had been rescued from an abusive situation. She was happy to be with us in our ground floor apartment with the huge back yard. We hooked up a line from the back lanai to a tree that was in a small green space t the edge of the property (about 25'), so she had plenty of space to roam. Her dog house was put next to the outside wall, and we put some old sweaters inside for her to cuddle up on.

Once we moved to  our house in Tacoma we got Tinuviel from a woman selling from a box outside of a small grocery store. She was a cross between a golden retriever and something with short legs, probably some sort of Terrier. She had a face only a mother could love, and although she was  pretty big, she considered herself a lap dog. When I  sat on the sofa, or my Dad came  over and sat in our moon chair she would climb right up. In Summer she would fetch but never give us the ball, so we two-timed her by dropping a second ball and then get her ready to go chase the first again. such a silly girl, but it was the only way we could really tire her out.

How we ended up with three dogs:
DH went to the pound to find a dog who the kids at the rental at the end of the alley told DH that their dad had "taken their dog to a farm that some friends had." DH figured this was a euphemism for the pound. He didn't find their dog, instead he found a brown Chesapeak Bay Retriever who was on his last day, so he brought him home and we named him Radagast. He and Tinuviel became 'besties' and loved to race around the yard, under the bushes out to the "back 40" and back again through a hedge. They wore a path to make it easier and easier; they had so much fun when they were young.

After they died, one by one, I was driving to the store when all of a sudden I got Basset consciousness and my car turned right into the pound's parking lot as if it was possessed. So, I went in and looked up and down the aisles  and there were many very cute dogs, but just one Basset Hound. I decided to wait until DH could see her the next day. So he came in to have a look and they waived the three-day wait because it was coming up on the 4th of July holiday. So they gave me a voucher, a list of vets, a collar and leash, and let her go for $40.

We named her Beulah.

She was not housebroken.  at.  all.  Our kitchen floor was covered in newspaper for nearly a year. I have never come closer to returning a dog to the pound than I  was with her. But the next Summer brought with it her AHA moment, and she only had the infrequent accidents after that.


Our next, and current, dog is Romy. He is a Pit-Mix and is my bi-eyed handsome boy. He is partial to my caregiver because she takes him on short walks, feeds him, and can speak dog. I swear they speak the same language -- not in a "woof woof" kind of way but in a "tilt of the head and hum" kind of way. I would be jealous but as soon as she leaves he comes and curls up close to me.

I think that I want a small, mellow dog next. One that would be cheap to feed, would sit on my lap, and wouldn't make big messes on the patio. A chihuahua maybe?

Good Night, TTYL, and Be Well,