I have photos of me as a baby with my grandmother, and a brindle Boxer, but I don't remember that one.
Grandpa had a very smelly spotted bird dog, and I have a vague recollection of an earlier German Shepherd. But those dogs weren't necessarily in my life.
The first dog I remember as being in close association with me was Sandy. He must have had some Golden Retriever in him, and he was a handsome fellow. He was supposed to be Auntie's dog, but when I went to live with the family, he decided I needed looking after. I went to live with my Aunt and her husband when their child was born. Sandy and I were inseparable from the moment I walked into the house.
One time I thought it would be great to have Sandy pull me on my skates. I attached a leash to his collar, and yelled "Go, Sandy!" Well, Sandy went, but I didn't, except to land rather firmly on my skinny hind end.
The next dog I remember was some kind of terrier that "Uncle" Dick brought home. Chico was his name, but he didn't last very long. After that, no more dogs until after I was married and had my first child.
We were living in Pasadena, Texas; Stephen was five years old and wanted a dog. We found a cute little mutt, and he and Stephen were as Sandy and I were. Stephen would ride his bike around the neighborhood, and Rafferty would pump his little short legs like crazy to keep up. He was named Rafferty because his bark sounded like raff-raff-raff.
When we moved back to California, we (husband) felt that we couldn't take the dog with us, and one of the neighbors was delighted to adopt him. But I don't think Stephen has forgiven ME, about leaving Raff behind.
The next dog came to us when we were settled in North Long Beach, California. We had a nice fenced yard, and Stephen was begging for another dog. We found another one that looked like a clone of Rafferty. So he became Raffertoo (Rafferty #2). By this time Andrew had been added to the family, and Raffertoo was impartial. He followed both boys.
I've never been sure about what happened to Raffertoo, but one day he just up and died. He's buried in the back yard of that North Long Beach home.
The next dog came to us after we had moved to Westminster (Orange County). A neighbor couple had a dog, part Chihuahau and part Dachshunt. What a combination. She had the head of the Chihuahua and the body of the Dachsie. Anyway, they couldn't get her housetrained, so the husband was going to take her to the pound. My husband made noises like "over my dead body!" That's how So-So came into our home. That was her name because she was so-so cute, so-so sweet, so-so darling. (Her original mistress was a little gushy)
We took her in because we had a pet door, and she could go outside any time she needed to do her job. She never had an "accident" in the house.
Later we got a cat and called him BrotherCat, as one of the boys observed that he would be So-So's little brother. Well, it didn't exactly work out that way. I tried putting the kitten in So-So's bed with her, but she wouldn't have any part of that. As soon as I stood up, she nosed that poor little waif out of her bed. No matter how often I tried, how I cajoled, So-So was NOT having that thing in her bed.
So far as we could tell, So-So never came into heat, so we didn't have her spayed. Besides we had a six-foot wall all around the property, and we felt she was safe from any canine romeos. Well, yeah.
She did come into heat one day (when she was about seven years old), and when I found a male dog in our yard, I chased him out with much yelling and throwing of things. But...too late. He'd already gotten to her. He wasn't a big dog, but he was bigger than So-So. I'll never figure how he got over the gate, but as they say, love conquers all.
Eventually, So-So's belly got so big it dragged on the floor, and the poor girl was mizzz-er-able! Gentle tummy rubs brought such a look of thanks and pleasure in her eyes, one could almost hear her sigh. Finally she had six pups, but only one lived. And that one was a combination of her mother and father. Another strange looking dog that Andrew dubbed Elroy. Somehow that seemed a fitting name.
So-So finally died of old age, and she's buried in the backyard of the Westminster home.
Elroy loved to go riding in the car, and one day she slipped into the car when I wasn't looking. As I was already on the way when I discovered her, I decided, Oh, well, let her ride. I went into the bank and thought I'd be in and out in a jiffy, but it was not to be. Someone either took her from the car, or she managed to squeeze out one of the partially open windows and followed someone home.
I tried for days to find her, but no one ever answered an ad, and she never showed up in any of the shelters in the county. It was a sad day, and I felt terrible! I still feel a little sad when I remember that it was my fault that Elroy was lost. She was such a character!!!
Since then no dogs. Just cats. But stay tuned for the saga of Damndog. She deserves a few pages all to herself.
Shalom