Who knows why our minds wander where they do? Is it a random thing, or is it guided by unknown forces. What is the engine we call conscience and what fuels that? Chance and circumstance, the result of our choices and the realization of truth? I'm not certain about any of that but I've had a memory resurface once again and it has been pervasive for the last few days. That memory concerns my dog. Yes, my companion when I was a child and one that remained loyal his entire life.
It could be that I see the postings on Facebook about peoples pets. I see the pictures, I read about the sorrow of their loss. In recent years there has been a growing trend of speaking of them as though they were children. I hear the term fur babies and the like. Animal advocates abound, and rescues. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with all of that, don't misunderstand me, it is just that the times have changed since I had my dog. My dad had his dog cremated and placed in the grave with him. That little dog had kept him company in the last years of his life, both of their lives. I have seen the grief some experience over the loss of a pet. Indeed I have experienced that loss myself.
I received my dog as a gift for my fifth birthday. That would have been in 1958. He was one of a litter of four. A friend of my Dad, a man named Ole Olsen who also cut my hair, gave the pup to Dad. Now Dad took the pup for a very specific reason. His right front leg was deformed just a little. Others didn't want him because of that but Dad had a soft spot when it came to stuff like that. Oh, he wouldn't say so, he didn't want anyone to think he was weak, but in his heart he held compassion. I had seen the puppies at Mr. Olsens' and kid fashion wanted one. So, that is how Laddie Boy came into my life. I have to give credit to my mom, she trained him. She was a bright dog and learned a few tricks. He would sit on command, come when called, and lie down. He was free to run and always returned home for dinner. When I started riding the school bus he wanted to come with me, everyone laughed as he boarded the bus. My older brother ordered him off the bus and he obeyed. Everyday he would go to the bus with us and everyday he would be there when the bus returned. How he knew I can't say but he was certainly there. He followed me everywhere unless told not to. Remember this was in the early sixties and a dog running free was a common sight. I would allow him to follow me uptown. I could go into the stores, telling him to stay, and he would be were I left him when I came out. I never saw him bark at anyone, just sit there and look around. He wouldn't approach a stranger unless told it was okay. To say he was well behaved doesn't do him justice.
Now when I was in school or otherwise occupied Laddie Boy had his rounds. He left my house and went to the house of my Aunt Bet. She saved any bones they had for him. He would go there and eat his breakfast, just like clockwork. After eating and taking a rest he traveled to another house. This was the home of Uncle Gravy. He wasn't really an uncle but that is what we called him. HIs last name was Graves, therefore the gravy part. It was believed he was well off, as the saying goes, and that gravy eluded to that. It was a good natured ribbing from my father and his other friends. They also saved scraps for him. From there he returned to the bus stop or just came home, depending. That routine continued for years, It was only interrupted when one day he was struck by a car. He was crossing the highway and was hit and dragged. He was a lucky, lucky dog as his skin was trapped between the locked front wheel of the car but not run over completely. After the driver backed up, he jumped up and ran home, cowering under a pine tree in the neighbors yard. We found him and Dad did take him to the vets.
I was scared and worried. You see Dad had a dog then too, one he had for years, before I was born anyway. She was a beautiful collie named Jackie. She was on a chain in the back yard most of the time for reasons I don't know. But Jackie got sick, she went to the vet and the vet said there was nothing they could do for her. She needed to be put down. Dad, with a neighbor took Jackie into the woods, a lone gun shot and it was done. Would that happen to Laddie Boy? Total relief as the vet was able to save Laddie, the cost wasn't too high. He was patched up and Mom nursed him a bit. I helped apply the salve to promote curing of that would. His hair never grew back along that scar, a good six or eight inches long. Afterwards, when he was healed and roaming again, he would stop at the edge of the road and look both ways. It was comical if you paid attention. He would stop, turn his head both ways several times and then run as fast as he could. Guess he learned his lesson. As I said, a smart little dog.
Laddie boy was always there. I admit to not paying much attention to him. Mine is not a story of a boy and his dog. Sure I played with him and he followed me around but it wasn't anything like you see in the movies or on television. Laddie was free to come and go as he pleased. He would come when called no matter what. Should he take off chasing a baby rabbit or the neighbors cat all I had to do was call, the chase was broken off and he returned. He was free to sleep outside or in. When he got older he would come inside more often, lying on his rug in the laundry room. He didn't venture into the rest of the house unless called. He didn't sleep next to my bed or any of that.
In the summer of 1971 I joined the Navy. I went to basic training in Great Lakes , Ill. From there I went to school and to my first command, the USS Pawcatuck AO-108 in Mayport Florida. I went on my first Mediterranean cruise and didn't return until early 1973. I got to take shore leave and traveled home. When I got there Dad told me of Laddie Boy passing away. He told me he had wrapped him in his rug and he was lying in the basement. Dad figured I would want to bury him myself. And so that's what I did. I carried him up the road to the neighbors tree. It was that old pine tree that he had run to for shelter after being struck by that car. There, I buried him. It just myself, no one else was in attendance giving me the room I needed to grieve that loss. As I said this was in 1973, there was no rainbow bridge for Laddie Boy, that wasn't constructed until the 1980's. But there was the welcoming warmth of the earth in springtime and my tears to nourish the soil. He lies there still, no marker to show his resting place. That was forty six years ago and the tree still stands. I can see it on Google earth. Time has moved on, his memory remains.
There, now I have that off my mind.
It could be that I see the postings on Facebook about peoples pets. I see the pictures, I read about the sorrow of their loss. In recent years there has been a growing trend of speaking of them as though they were children. I hear the term fur babies and the like. Animal advocates abound, and rescues. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with all of that, don't misunderstand me, it is just that the times have changed since I had my dog. My dad had his dog cremated and placed in the grave with him. That little dog had kept him company in the last years of his life, both of their lives. I have seen the grief some experience over the loss of a pet. Indeed I have experienced that loss myself.
I received my dog as a gift for my fifth birthday. That would have been in 1958. He was one of a litter of four. A friend of my Dad, a man named Ole Olsen who also cut my hair, gave the pup to Dad. Now Dad took the pup for a very specific reason. His right front leg was deformed just a little. Others didn't want him because of that but Dad had a soft spot when it came to stuff like that. Oh, he wouldn't say so, he didn't want anyone to think he was weak, but in his heart he held compassion. I had seen the puppies at Mr. Olsens' and kid fashion wanted one. So, that is how Laddie Boy came into my life. I have to give credit to my mom, she trained him. She was a bright dog and learned a few tricks. He would sit on command, come when called, and lie down. He was free to run and always returned home for dinner. When I started riding the school bus he wanted to come with me, everyone laughed as he boarded the bus. My older brother ordered him off the bus and he obeyed. Everyday he would go to the bus with us and everyday he would be there when the bus returned. How he knew I can't say but he was certainly there. He followed me everywhere unless told not to. Remember this was in the early sixties and a dog running free was a common sight. I would allow him to follow me uptown. I could go into the stores, telling him to stay, and he would be were I left him when I came out. I never saw him bark at anyone, just sit there and look around. He wouldn't approach a stranger unless told it was okay. To say he was well behaved doesn't do him justice.
Now when I was in school or otherwise occupied Laddie Boy had his rounds. He left my house and went to the house of my Aunt Bet. She saved any bones they had for him. He would go there and eat his breakfast, just like clockwork. After eating and taking a rest he traveled to another house. This was the home of Uncle Gravy. He wasn't really an uncle but that is what we called him. HIs last name was Graves, therefore the gravy part. It was believed he was well off, as the saying goes, and that gravy eluded to that. It was a good natured ribbing from my father and his other friends. They also saved scraps for him. From there he returned to the bus stop or just came home, depending. That routine continued for years, It was only interrupted when one day he was struck by a car. He was crossing the highway and was hit and dragged. He was a lucky, lucky dog as his skin was trapped between the locked front wheel of the car but not run over completely. After the driver backed up, he jumped up and ran home, cowering under a pine tree in the neighbors yard. We found him and Dad did take him to the vets.
I was scared and worried. You see Dad had a dog then too, one he had for years, before I was born anyway. She was a beautiful collie named Jackie. She was on a chain in the back yard most of the time for reasons I don't know. But Jackie got sick, she went to the vet and the vet said there was nothing they could do for her. She needed to be put down. Dad, with a neighbor took Jackie into the woods, a lone gun shot and it was done. Would that happen to Laddie Boy? Total relief as the vet was able to save Laddie, the cost wasn't too high. He was patched up and Mom nursed him a bit. I helped apply the salve to promote curing of that would. His hair never grew back along that scar, a good six or eight inches long. Afterwards, when he was healed and roaming again, he would stop at the edge of the road and look both ways. It was comical if you paid attention. He would stop, turn his head both ways several times and then run as fast as he could. Guess he learned his lesson. As I said, a smart little dog.
Laddie boy was always there. I admit to not paying much attention to him. Mine is not a story of a boy and his dog. Sure I played with him and he followed me around but it wasn't anything like you see in the movies or on television. Laddie was free to come and go as he pleased. He would come when called no matter what. Should he take off chasing a baby rabbit or the neighbors cat all I had to do was call, the chase was broken off and he returned. He was free to sleep outside or in. When he got older he would come inside more often, lying on his rug in the laundry room. He didn't venture into the rest of the house unless called. He didn't sleep next to my bed or any of that.
In the summer of 1971 I joined the Navy. I went to basic training in Great Lakes , Ill. From there I went to school and to my first command, the USS Pawcatuck AO-108 in Mayport Florida. I went on my first Mediterranean cruise and didn't return until early 1973. I got to take shore leave and traveled home. When I got there Dad told me of Laddie Boy passing away. He told me he had wrapped him in his rug and he was lying in the basement. Dad figured I would want to bury him myself. And so that's what I did. I carried him up the road to the neighbors tree. It was that old pine tree that he had run to for shelter after being struck by that car. There, I buried him. It just myself, no one else was in attendance giving me the room I needed to grieve that loss. As I said this was in 1973, there was no rainbow bridge for Laddie Boy, that wasn't constructed until the 1980's. But there was the welcoming warmth of the earth in springtime and my tears to nourish the soil. He lies there still, no marker to show his resting place. That was forty six years ago and the tree still stands. I can see it on Google earth. Time has moved on, his memory remains.
There, now I have that off my mind.
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