Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Fence-eating Dogs and Puppy Pancakes
I used to have a dog. Chucky was his name. He ran away. He was an outdoor dog. Guess he didn't like the accommodations. Especially in winter. One day we found him eating his way through the fence. And then he tried tunneling under. Never found out how he got out. He probably got hit by a car. Oh well.
Then we had an old blind dog named Buffy. A little poodle. Well, she didn't start out old or blind...she just got that way. Anyways, she was my favorite dog growing up. We got her when I was probably 2 or 3. She was a fun little pup. I guess you could say I grew up with her. I watched her have puppies. We actually crawled into the doghouse to witness the birthing process first hand. She didn't like that. There's nothing quite as scary as a poodle baring his teeth and growling. It was like she was possessed all of a sudden and forgot all those fun times we had like pushing her down the hot slide in our backyard and dressing her up in doll clothes and yanking her chain on walks when she stopped to smell the flowers. On one cold winter's day, my mom backed out of the driveway to take us kids to school and we heard a little yelp and a crunch under the tires. One of those puppies got out and that was it. Just a red stain in the white snow really. It was sad. My mom didn't tell us younger kids until a few days later. More puppy chow to go around I suppose.
And then there were the older years when she got blind and started running into things and you could see her ribs through her skin cause she wouldn't eat any more. I gave her ice cream and the best stuff off my plate (vegetables) to try to fatten her up but to no avail. I don't even really remember how that dog died. I guess my mom waited a while to tell me about that too. That's probably for the best.
I love dogs. Especially ones that don't shed.