My Dog Lives

The first dog I ever remember was a Chihuahua named Charlie Brown. He was my parents dog and was the "first child" of Josephine and Carl. I don't remember much about him other than he was a little cantankerous by the time I came along and he had "dropsy". This was a heart condition of sorts that cause him to faint, lay on the floor breathing shallowly, and hoping up to lay on the couch for a long nap. It basically terrified me.

There are numerous photos of Charlie Brown lying at the foot of my crib watching over me despite my insertion into his life. My Mother and Dad sat together on the couch crying when we had to put him to sleep at 22. It wasn't until much later in life that I realized how significant he was to the two of them and how much of life they shared with him. He was a companion to my mother when my Dad was away at school. He was Dad's caretaker when he was sick. And he was the sentry that watched reluctantly over a newborn.

Chip was the next one in line, a stray that wandered up to our house on Carta Rd. He was a wire hair terrier with who knows what else in him. He and a neighbors dog named Cinnamon meandered about the neighborhood most days and settled respectively at our house and the Griffin's house at night. It seemed in those days we didn't worry as much about strays and we fed whoever wandered up. Seems as long as they didn't damage anything or anyone, they were welcomed.

Chip was my best friend. He was always up for a a game of Bonanza and wandered the Ponderosa of the back yard when I decided the fence horse was where the afternoon playtime was. He gladly laid down next to me to hear my complaints about my Dad being a "male chauvinist pig" one night (yes there's a tale about that one. It was the 70's after all and I was Woman Hear me Roar). He splayed himself out for the regular Doctor's appointments I made for him with my plastic stethoscope and little blue plastic bag. It was probably the little candy pills he liked. He was a sport. I held him the night before he died and knew he was my first love and best friend.

There were several dogs in between that were part of our lives but I was growing up and didn't have the energy or time to spend with them. Olivia was a shepherd mutt who was named after Olivia Newton John. She was the crush at the time and about the time the real Olivia got married, the dog Olivia (Livvie) ran away. Sparky was in there somewhere. He was the dog around when I was in college. More for Mom's company than any. Finally, Smokey was the last. He too took off in a thunderstorm I think.

Summitt the wonder pup was the best of the bunch. As I've written before, she was my soul mate and likely always will be. She was the first dog that was mine all mine and we forged a bond in the snows of upper East Tennessee when she was 6 weeks old and her peeps of discomfort could be heard out my bedroom window during a snowstorm. My mother got her for me over Thanksgiving one year after I rented a house. I carried her in a pouch pocket for about a month. She chewed the hell out of my furniture and wasn't the most welcoming dog. But she stuck with me through sickness and health and hurt. She lies under an apple tree in Washington. And I miss her still.

I've had cats too. They are fine but the dog lover in me enjoys the companionship. It is something to be with a creature who cares not a wit about what you do or who you love or how you worry. Yes they want food shelter and water. They also teach me how to live in a world with too little forgiveness and too much selfishness. In part because they forgive and seem to understand that we humans are pack animals displaced.

Lewis is currently piled on the couch on my Grandmothers quilt. It seems the family is together again.