“Outside of a dog, books are man’s best friends.
Inside of a dog…it’s too dark to read.”
-Groucho Marx
I count this as one of my favorite quotes. I love books. I love dogs. What’s not to like about the quote? I spend a fair amount of time thinking about my favorite books. I have provided a list of the top five, which has remained firm for the past decade, on the right margin of my blog. I fear that I have neglected my loving companions on this forum.
No longer…
I hereby submit to you a record of my doggie friends. I will give them in a chronologic order…as I find it impossible to list them in order from least to greatest or vice-versa.
BUSTER
My first memory of a dog…any dog…is Buster. I suppose that he was my dad’s dog before he married my mom. I was a little over a year old when they married and we moved in with him to the house on 835 Lee Street. I thought that Dad named him after Buster Brown shoes…and that’s why he always bought me those kind of shoes. Kids draw weird lines in their heads between two different things. He was a brown dog, big to a little guy like me, who lived in our back yard. I had asked my dad about Buster’s breed once, about that time of a kid’s life when he learns that there are names for different kinds of dogs.. Dad called him a “purebred mutt,” and I happily paraded my dog’s breed around school.
Buster was the best dog ever. He came when we called, played fetch the right way (without making us chase him), ran around the mountains with youthful abandon, and loved me unconditionally. Of course most of my memories of him are clouded in the blissful rose-tinted lens of time.
I do clearly remember getting up late one wintry night, sometime between Larry and Darin’s birth, to noises in the kitchen. I went out in my one-piece footed PJ’s to investigate and found Dad in his green Army khakis rubbing Buster down with a towel. Buster was an outdoor dog, never allowed in the house…but here he was dripping melting ice on the kitchen floor. Dad had brought him in out of a raging snowstorm to keep him warm. He never said it, but I kind of already knew that this was something that mom didn’t need to know about. We sat with the dog for awhile, and I think that I actually fell asleep on the kitchen floor with my head on Buster. I woke up the next morning in bed, and Buster was in the garage.
We had Buster for a good long time, and I am sure that he was an old and wise (albeit “purebred”) mutt by the time I said good bye to him. Actually, he never died…at least not in my home. He didn’t run away from me…he ran away from Larry. Larry’s hobby after returning from the hospital after his accident was throwing things at my dog. One day, after one-too-many-rocks hit him in the head, Buster had enough. He jumped the fence that he never before had to jump, and took off for a retirement away from the strife we called Larry. I saw him from the front yard and called after him. He stopped, looked at me with his wise old brown eyes, barked and gave a short whine, then ran down the street and out of my life. I knew that he really didn’t want to go away from the only home that he could ever remember. I know that he loved me, and even thought for a short moment about staying with me. In the end, he could not stay.
I miss Buster. I hope to see him in Heaven and let him know that I would have come with him if I could.
PANCHO
¡Ah…Pancho! ¡Ah…Cisco!
Actually he was “Ponch,” after Erik Estrada’s character in the hit TV serried “CHIPS.” Pancho came home with Greg one day while Greg was in high school. He was just a little puppy…and cute as could be at that. He was a German Shepherd/Doberman mix. “CHIPS” was on the TV when Greg came home with the puppy…and the name came naturally and unanimously from all of us kids.
It turns out that Greg picked up the pup without consulting Dad, and Dad was not too happy. Still, we couldn’t turn the poor guy away. We all loved him and played with him, and Pancho grew quickly. In a matter of months, he had grown to the point where his playful puppiness more or less resembled vicious attack doginess. He took over the backyard, having grown physically huge, but remained a puppy with harmless intentions in his head. The only two alpha’s he accepted in his life were Dad and Greg. He saw everyone else as a self-propelled chew toy.
After less than a year, Dad took Pancho down to the Denver Dumb Friends League. He felt (and rightly so) that Pancho needed different pack and a different situation. However, just as Greg didn’t consult Dad when bringing Pancho into the pack, Dad did not consult Greg when taking Pancho away.
Both Dad and Pancho are gone, but it’s a touchy subject still today with Greg.
On his way home Dad picked up a new friend for the family, and the next canine friend in my life…
SPUNKY
Now there was a great little dog. I don’t say that much about small dogs, but this little terri-poo was my buddy. He had black hair, usually matted because we couldn’t be bothered to brush him regularly. Dad would shear him annually, and his hair would look like a little poodle rug with a body, arms, legs, and neck.
I would play with him in the yard. We would wrestle in the living room (he let me win sometimes.) He would snooze in my lap while I watched “East of Eden” or “Rebel Without a Cause.” I missed him most of all when I moved out of my Dad’s house. He always came to me so excited when I came by for visits.
Spunky had grown pretty old by the time I left on my mission. He still showed his excitement when I came home…but it looked a lot like incontinence. Jen and I had only been married a short time when Spunky succumbed to his many years of happiness with our family, and died in Brad’s arms. I miss that little squirt (the dog…Brad’s still around…he’s my brother.)
TOBY
Brad missed having a four legged best friend, and so when he was 18 he went down to the Denver Dumb Friends League and picked up a 2 year old yellow lab named Toby. This dog had one word going through his mind 24/7: PLAY. He was curious, and ran away a lot, but always came back home…after we found him, leashed him, and dragged him all of the way back to the house. He did like to fetch though. Brad moved out, moved on, but Toby stayed at Dad’s house. Dad got married and moved out, but Toby stayed with Larry and Darin. He lived and played there with us for 10 years, and then one day he laid down for a nap under the tree in the back yard, and woke up in Heaven…
BELLA
That brings me to my current doggy friend: Bella. She is a beagle/blue healer mix. Jen got her for me last year, knowing that I love dogs. She is not as easy as I remember a dog being inside the home…but that just follows the tried and true equation:
TIME + MEMORIES = LIES OF A BETTER YESTERDAY
Bella stays mainly downstairs with Larry and Darin since my surgery last fall. I walk her often, and play with her every day. She has taken to some training that Greg taught me. She brays beautifully, and I have provided her a big back yard full of wonderful things to sniff. I love her. She’s my doggy.
We are going to have one heck of a pack in Heaven…when dogs, cats, birds, crayfish, and all other pets that Jen and I have ever had, do have, or will have will live in happy peace together. I will read to them from good books...because in Heaven the lighting should be just fine for both dogs and reading.
Inside of a dog…it’s too dark to read.”
-Groucho Marx
I count this as one of my favorite quotes. I love books. I love dogs. What’s not to like about the quote? I spend a fair amount of time thinking about my favorite books. I have provided a list of the top five, which has remained firm for the past decade, on the right margin of my blog. I fear that I have neglected my loving companions on this forum.
No longer…
I hereby submit to you a record of my doggie friends. I will give them in a chronologic order…as I find it impossible to list them in order from least to greatest or vice-versa.
BUSTER
My first memory of a dog…any dog…is Buster. I suppose that he was my dad’s dog before he married my mom. I was a little over a year old when they married and we moved in with him to the house on 835 Lee Street. I thought that Dad named him after Buster Brown shoes…and that’s why he always bought me those kind of shoes. Kids draw weird lines in their heads between two different things. He was a brown dog, big to a little guy like me, who lived in our back yard. I had asked my dad about Buster’s breed once, about that time of a kid’s life when he learns that there are names for different kinds of dogs.. Dad called him a “purebred mutt,” and I happily paraded my dog’s breed around school.
Buster was the best dog ever. He came when we called, played fetch the right way (without making us chase him), ran around the mountains with youthful abandon, and loved me unconditionally. Of course most of my memories of him are clouded in the blissful rose-tinted lens of time.
I do clearly remember getting up late one wintry night, sometime between Larry and Darin’s birth, to noises in the kitchen. I went out in my one-piece footed PJ’s to investigate and found Dad in his green Army khakis rubbing Buster down with a towel. Buster was an outdoor dog, never allowed in the house…but here he was dripping melting ice on the kitchen floor. Dad had brought him in out of a raging snowstorm to keep him warm. He never said it, but I kind of already knew that this was something that mom didn’t need to know about. We sat with the dog for awhile, and I think that I actually fell asleep on the kitchen floor with my head on Buster. I woke up the next morning in bed, and Buster was in the garage.
We had Buster for a good long time, and I am sure that he was an old and wise (albeit “purebred”) mutt by the time I said good bye to him. Actually, he never died…at least not in my home. He didn’t run away from me…he ran away from Larry. Larry’s hobby after returning from the hospital after his accident was throwing things at my dog. One day, after one-too-many-rocks hit him in the head, Buster had enough. He jumped the fence that he never before had to jump, and took off for a retirement away from the strife we called Larry. I saw him from the front yard and called after him. He stopped, looked at me with his wise old brown eyes, barked and gave a short whine, then ran down the street and out of my life. I knew that he really didn’t want to go away from the only home that he could ever remember. I know that he loved me, and even thought for a short moment about staying with me. In the end, he could not stay.
I miss Buster. I hope to see him in Heaven and let him know that I would have come with him if I could.
PANCHO
¡Ah…Pancho! ¡Ah…Cisco!
Actually he was “Ponch,” after Erik Estrada’s character in the hit TV serried “CHIPS.” Pancho came home with Greg one day while Greg was in high school. He was just a little puppy…and cute as could be at that. He was a German Shepherd/Doberman mix. “CHIPS” was on the TV when Greg came home with the puppy…and the name came naturally and unanimously from all of us kids.
It turns out that Greg picked up the pup without consulting Dad, and Dad was not too happy. Still, we couldn’t turn the poor guy away. We all loved him and played with him, and Pancho grew quickly. In a matter of months, he had grown to the point where his playful puppiness more or less resembled vicious attack doginess. He took over the backyard, having grown physically huge, but remained a puppy with harmless intentions in his head. The only two alpha’s he accepted in his life were Dad and Greg. He saw everyone else as a self-propelled chew toy.
After less than a year, Dad took Pancho down to the Denver Dumb Friends League. He felt (and rightly so) that Pancho needed different pack and a different situation. However, just as Greg didn’t consult Dad when bringing Pancho into the pack, Dad did not consult Greg when taking Pancho away.
Both Dad and Pancho are gone, but it’s a touchy subject still today with Greg.
On his way home Dad picked up a new friend for the family, and the next canine friend in my life…
SPUNKY
Now there was a great little dog. I don’t say that much about small dogs, but this little terri-poo was my buddy. He had black hair, usually matted because we couldn’t be bothered to brush him regularly. Dad would shear him annually, and his hair would look like a little poodle rug with a body, arms, legs, and neck.
I would play with him in the yard. We would wrestle in the living room (he let me win sometimes.) He would snooze in my lap while I watched “East of Eden” or “Rebel Without a Cause.” I missed him most of all when I moved out of my Dad’s house. He always came to me so excited when I came by for visits.
Spunky had grown pretty old by the time I left on my mission. He still showed his excitement when I came home…but it looked a lot like incontinence. Jen and I had only been married a short time when Spunky succumbed to his many years of happiness with our family, and died in Brad’s arms. I miss that little squirt (the dog…Brad’s still around…he’s my brother.)
TOBY
Brad missed having a four legged best friend, and so when he was 18 he went down to the Denver Dumb Friends League and picked up a 2 year old yellow lab named Toby. This dog had one word going through his mind 24/7: PLAY. He was curious, and ran away a lot, but always came back home…after we found him, leashed him, and dragged him all of the way back to the house. He did like to fetch though. Brad moved out, moved on, but Toby stayed at Dad’s house. Dad got married and moved out, but Toby stayed with Larry and Darin. He lived and played there with us for 10 years, and then one day he laid down for a nap under the tree in the back yard, and woke up in Heaven…
BELLA
That brings me to my current doggy friend: Bella. She is a beagle/blue healer mix. Jen got her for me last year, knowing that I love dogs. She is not as easy as I remember a dog being inside the home…but that just follows the tried and true equation:
TIME + MEMORIES = LIES OF A BETTER YESTERDAY
Bella stays mainly downstairs with Larry and Darin since my surgery last fall. I walk her often, and play with her every day. She has taken to some training that Greg taught me. She brays beautifully, and I have provided her a big back yard full of wonderful things to sniff. I love her. She’s my doggy.
We are going to have one heck of a pack in Heaven…when dogs, cats, birds, crayfish, and all other pets that Jen and I have ever had, do have, or will have will live in happy peace together. I will read to them from good books...because in Heaven the lighting should be just fine for both dogs and reading.
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