Buffy was next. He actually was my grandfather's dog and I got to name him and pretended that he was mine. He was a yellow lab mix and a stray as well. He was a super-smart dog and had eyes that led straight to his sweet soul. At night, he was supposed to sleep in the basement, buy my grandfather and I would sneak him upstairs to sleep in the living room. My grandmother pretended not to notice.
My next pet was quite a story. I read about him on the front page of the local paper in Mt. Vernon, NY. The Daily Argus, way back in 1973. It was the day after Christmas and he was found during a snowstorm, wavering from side to side of a double yellow line on Lincoln Avenue in Pelham, NY. Not a location that would ensure a long, healthy life for a puppy. A woman picked him up and brought him to her home. She was unable to keep him and had hoped the story in the paper would find his rightful owner. I guess the "rightful" owner ended up being me, since no one claimed the poor boy. Ta-da!!! Sammy entered my life. He was my buddy through the first 13 years of marriage and the birth of my two sons. Sammy was the best dog ever. He was protective, loving, and had a deep sense of understanding. He had this uncanny sense of knowing whenever I was sad. There were too many times when he would curl up next to me and lick away tears as they fell from my eyes. He would lay a paw on my shoulder, as if to say, "I'm here." He had "those eyes" too. Those soul-searching eyes.
The pal who followed Sammy was named Auggie, named after Auggie Doggie, the cartoon. He was a full-bred beagle that was given away because he had a physical defect - a bend in his tail. No good for a breeder, or to use as a show dog, but let me tell you, he was quite the entertainer. He kept the family laughing at his antics, which included getting loose, stealing food and leaving the evidence on my front lawn. He showed up with various items, but the most memorable were the peach can stuck on his snout, a half-defrosted roast beef, a raw turkey neck, and various dishes that, at one time, held cat food. He ate anything and everything. He got "skunked" a couple of times and actually let someone enter our home one night without so much as a raised eye lid. I think he may have snored through it all.
The adventure that followed Auggie was the well-renowned, chick-magnet, collegiate and well-traveled "Tank." So named by my son. I called him "Mommy's baby," or "Tankie." Tank lived in more places than my kids had at the time. He spent a semester at Cobbleskill Community College, he hung out at Fulgum's Bar, sat in the front seat of a Jeep Wrangler while cruising around town and flashed "those eyes" at all the girls. He also loved to sleep under the covers in my bed. A wonderful foot warmer and friend. Everyone in our little town knew him. Tank lived to the ripe old age of 14! He was well cared for and well loved by many right up to his last day. He lived a most charmed life.Bogey, although not technically mine, earned a spot on my list. He helped me find the man I am about to marry. It's too long a story to go into, but suffice it to say, that I agreed to a first date based on the fact that he had a Golden Retriever. I figured that anyone who has a Golden, can't be that bad Fast forward to today, as I count down the days to our wedding. Bogey, although named for the golf term, was a true tennis fan. He LOVED tennis balls and had to have TWO thrown out to him in the yard. Not one.....it had to be two.
He was a lover and a super spoiled sweetheart. It ended up that Bogey and Tank were the same age. They were both gently sent to the gate within months of each other. It was a tough time and I well up with tears to remember. I choose to remember them running, jumping, wagging their tails and chasing tennis balls.
I will end this blog entry with my last pet........a black and white tuxedo cat, named Lucy. To be continued...
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