The Delights and Wonders of Having Dogs in One's Family!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:           The Delights and Wonders of Having Dogs in One's Family!

Nickie!  Quite adept at
piano, she was!!

"Snickers" was the given name, that is, the moniker conferred upon a certain "CockaPoo" of our acquaintance.  Her original family called her "Nickie."  She was a canine of the feminine persuasion.  Following our adoption of said doggie, we, ever after, called her Nickie as well!  (Snickers seemed to us unkind and inappropriate, sort of...  like equating her to an edible thing...   a commodity!!)

(Cockapoo:  An amalgam of cocker spaniel and poodle, not a rooster and a chubby, honey-obsessed literary cartoon creature!)

The adoption was accomplished following the death of his original master, a much-loved family member whom we continue to miss, even some 40 years or more after the fact.  Prior to her passing, she "bequeathed" Nickie to us, fearful that her remaining family members might tend to forget their dog-connected duties, given work, school and personal commitments and preferences!  Understandable, of course, and we were happy to take the dog into our care! 

She was unique, a kind of "First Edition," One-of-a-Kind...  A fuzzy, highly energetic and sort of manic package with a comic and an antic disposition.  A bundle all together repulsive, maddening, unruly, laughable and lovable!

On one occasion, while trotting about in our neighborhood -- a daily routine designed to

The Blog's Perpetrator
in peculiar joggling
apparel, compelling his
"Best Friend" to
bite his leg!

keep one fit -- glad in goggles, knit cap, scarf, logo'ed leg warmers and other odd apparel, she bit me.  Probably didn't mean to bite her deputy master, possibly a case of mistaken identity...  (or fear of lunacy ?!) -- SweetHeart being the principal or Chief of Masters -- she seemed to apologize after I showed Nickie the bite mark and blood on my lower leg!  Nickie, of course, feigned ignorance!

She even bit our lawyer.  Thank goodness he was a dear friend of long standing!  All taken in good humor, even as he hopped in one-legged pain, quizzing us as to why we were present with a strange beast at a cut-rate salvage yard!  (We might have been sued had she bit a member of the legal profession unknown to us!) 

Nickie barked at everything and anything, including insects, doors, the postman, the UPS and other commercial delivery drivers, other dogs, passersby in the neighborhood, birds, visiting children, dignitaries, collection agents, a mean-looking repossession emissary...

Splendor in the Grass...  
Prior to Burial Ceremony!

***************************

When Nickie became quite old and ill, she had to be carried      upstairs to our bed where she'd spend the night in peaceful slumber.  Hearing morning noises, she emit strident barking, waking the household if not the entire neighborhood, tumble out of bed and mostly fall down the stairs, crash into a closet door at the bottom of said stairs, and commence barking fiercely at the offending door!

When Nickie finally succumbed to illness and old age, we took her to the capacious property of our dear friends, Sue and Rob, and buried her near a fruit tree.  As part of the burial ceremony, I sang the plaintive tune, "Old Blue," and we lowered her into the grave...  "I dug her grave with a silver spade, and let her down with a golden chain, singin' 'Go on Blue (Nickie,) I'm a comin' too..." A truly lovely send-off that those of us participating, and no doubt listening from the road, found to be quite haunting, beautiful and memorable!  (Really??!!)

***************************************************************************

She, Kody,  really did have large Black Spots
on her fuselage, or torso!  You'll have to 
take our word!

And then Dakota arrived, or Kody as we came to call her, a mainly white and black-spotted greyhound acquired from a shelter, or humane society canine care center in the county in which we lived at the time.  Our sweet little daughter felt we could not live without a "canine cousin" in our family grouping.  Kody cuddled up to Bethie, our daughter...   and that was that!

As greyhounds do, Kody loved to run, but only the sprint portion of the exercise, and then we practically had to drag her back home as she felt she had done all that was necessary in the running game.  (I think we heard her speak occasionally -- "Leave me alone here on the soft grass...  I'm resting!") 

Our daughter, she who desperately wanted a doggie companion, moved out shortly after the Kody acquisition, leaving her parents with the permanent care and feeding responsibilities for Dog Kody!  

Kody (center, Mostly) with Family Members.  
SweetHeart is at top.  That's Bethie at left!

    Kody had a Houdini-like proclivity of     escaping her collar and lead, frequently.  On     one occasion we found the escapee climbing up  on the body and shoulders of an elderly     woman!  "Git him off, Git him off," the woman  shrieked repeatedly.  We ran to the poor old     dear and extricated Kody from her terrified     person, comically scolding Kody in the     process.  The elderly woman scowled at and     rebuked us, "He should be on a rope or some other means of restraint for pity sake..."  

"He's a girl dog," SweetHeart responded!

In the midst of our old and sagging front porch reconstruction, Kody clawed her way out of the temporary doorway in order to follow her immediate family and other relatives who were embarking on a walk to the local coffee emporium.  She raced after us, crossing a somewhat busy road only to be struck by a large pickup truck.  No fault of the driver's, as he could not stop in time to prevent striking the racing hound.  The poor man wept as we tried to console him, while at the same time assessing the considerable damage to our poor canine.

She was obviously badly wounded in the encounter.  Shocked and limping, belly sagging and filled with blood and other fluid, we rushed Kody to an animal emergency clinic.  Throughout the ordeal, various veterinarians continued to consult with us, halting our continuous circumnavigations as we nervously paced the waiting area.  "She'll need more treatment," a vet doctor told us.  "Um, she'll need this kind of treatment...  and these sorts

of medicines..."  $3000.00 later we carried her to our auto, and then into the house.  SweetHeart fed her by hand.  Soft foods.  Oatmeal, cottage cheese, soft-boiled eggs....  Kody became the Cleopatra of wounded animals, dedicated servants at her bidding!!

At various times in her life with us, Kody -- food obsessed and thieving like no dog before or since --  ate an entire complement of chocolates, regurgitating and depositing offal everywhere in the house, not a spot of carpeting was spared!  On another occasion, SweetHeart having baked one of her famous cheesecakes promised for a function we were to attend, Kody devoured damn near the entire cake!  Kody was a master food thief.  We were not always happy with her, particularly when she consumed our dinners!  

Our fault, I suppose.  We should have concealed all manner of food stuffs, placing them well out of her reach or ability to sniff out and devour!!  

Pete (left), Yoshi (right) and
Alie (Center)....  Walkies!!

On one of her escapes, she fled into nearby Lake Park and encountered a not-too-friendly skunk.  Our neighbor used his roommate's new convertible, rescued Kody who resultantly,        permanently deposited and impregnated skunk aroma in the    upholstery and carpeting of the gorgeous new automobile.  The roommate was not pleased, perhaps needless to add.  But, Kody was rescued, safe...  That must count for something, eh?

Kody lived 13 years.  We did not have a chance to offer her a burial ceremony, as a local humane animal clinic put her to sleep.  Kody had cancer, couldn't eat, couldn't digest food.  She was positively skeletal.  Very sad.  We miss them both, loved them both.  Wonderful companions.  Wonderful, fun and often challenging family members.  

************************

     Pete with Lucy!        

    There is, however, a kind of compensation.  Both of our beautiful          daughters have dogs -- Pete (Peter, Petey...) and Yoshi, both males         of the species, the former a rescued street dog, a tan-colored mix of     beagle and no one really knows what else, but with a sweet
    disposition.   The latter is all black, another mixture of breeds, a         small "Labra-Doodle"sort of creation!  

Yoshi, après bath!

    He, Yoshi (or Yo Yo, his sort of nom de plume!)      has a bark that seems as though he may have         swallowed an amplifier with no volume control!  Both are interesting, delightful creatures.  We are happy to spend time with them, and that helps to mitigate the loss of those former pals, their memories etched in our heads and hearts, their adventuresome stories a frequent source of merriment! 

(Dedicated to Dog Lovers Everywhere, particularly those who took possibly unwanted  shelter-bound dogs into their hearts and homes.  We are of course kindred spirits, are we not?  Indeed we are!  Thank You!) 

(Humbly Submitted 04-29-2025 -- By Joel K.)   

 

 

 

  

  

Reflections on Doggies.... And Some Resolutions...!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:      Reflections on Our Love for Doggies...  and Some New Year 
                                                   Revulsions...    That is, Resolutions!


Sometimes you just have to forgive someone who has reached Geezer Age for absurd mixtures of themes, metaphors and cupcake batter.  I’d like to share some thoughts about our love affair with dogs, or doggies as I prefer (I have grandchildren!).  And I have a few resolutions I’d like to make public, or semi-private if you’ve already stopped reading this nonsense.
  
To begin...
1.)  I will not bludgeon random individuals during nocturnal wanderings!
2.)  I will treat doggies with reverence and respect...  I love doggies!

Don't know what she had against mail
and delivery trucks.  We quite enjoy
receiving packages, and mail too...
or some of it!

During my robust middle age, not quite a geezer but moving in that direction, we inherited a

Nicky was a "CockaPoo."  I often told
people she was a "CockaPeekaYorkie-
BullaSheetzuPoo.  She wasn't, but I
knew one!  (Didn't I??)

dog named Snickers.  We always called her “Nicky.” (I think that’s how we spelled it...  a female spelling should be Nickie, I suppose...  she was a female doggie.)  A wondrous creature, she bit our lawyer (never a recommendable thing!), me (when I was jogging dressed in outrageously silly winter weather attire -- striped leg warmers, welder’s goggles, a Russian hat with ear flaps, Packer-monogrammed mittens...), a member of the clergy, tires, trees, infrastructure...  She barked at everything, including insects, large dogs, the UPS man, rodents -- both of the arboreal and sewer-dwelling variety -- inanimate things, reptiles, flying objects...  

Frequently, especially in advanced age, she’d hear noises, real and imaginary (a doorbell?), race

My editors told me to
place an image of a plum
tree here...  for reference!

madly down the staircase, tumble and slide most of the way, and then bark truculently at a closet door upon reaching the landing. Magnificent animal.  We loved her.  In her final years, she erupted frequently from both major orifices.  We were certain she’d give us one final and massive explosion of emesis and fecal matter.  She didn’t.  Nicky lived 15 years.  She’s buried in Rob and Sue’s orchard, near or under a plum tree.  There’s no marker, but we know where...

3.)  I shall not eat pizza pie more than once each year!  (To be honest, I only eat pizza on December 24th.  It’s a tradition.  So this isn’t really much of a hardship!)
4.)  I resolve to tell my wife, "I Love You!" with greater frequency and sincerity!...  Children and grandchildren too!   
5.)  I shall be kind to all living creatures...  most of the time (excepting rude people and those who mistreat animals, human and otherwise)!

That's our daughter, Alie, with Kody,
and that's also Kody in the inset,
upper left (in front of our house)!

Dakota was next, a large greyhound.  (I was at the time much closer to actual geezerhood...  or there, maybe?!!)  Our daughter, Bethie, decided we needed another canine companion (Alie was away at school, I believe!).  We motored off to the nearby Humane Animal Welfare Society location. We interviewed a number of doggies.  A mostly white creature -- with one enormous and several other black spots -- snuggled in next to Bethie as we three were seated in the interview room.  That was that.  “I’ll take great care of her,” said Bethie.  “I’ll walk and feed her faithfully.”  A week later she was enrolled at UW-M and living in a lower flat on Milwaukee’s east side.  

We took Dakota -- now re-dubbed “Kody” for evermore -- to a doggie training class.  I was trained.  She was not.  The dog had some fine qualities.  She had a way of telegraphing her more elaborate call of nature.  Because of that, we had the time to roll up a plastic, eared shopping sack and place it under her rear quarters, into which and without apparent objection she would deposit her (uh...  How shall I put it?...) deposit!

On one occasion in which we were engaged as described above, a troop of “Itty Bitty” soccer

Seany's looking a bit underwhelmed.
He was much younger then; so is
Kody.  They got along great!  They
were waiting on the porch for mail
and doggie treats respectively, I think!

players and their coach were marching along smartly, sort of parallel to our location.  The coach stopped her tiny team, pointed and announced in gleeful surprise, “Look, girls, that doggie is going potty directly into a sack.  Isn’t that marvelous?!  Isn’t that doggie beautifully trained?!...”  I wanted to say, but didn’t, “See here, you silly soccer-coaching bubblehead, the dog isn’t trained, I’m trained!!”  (But wait! Who was really being a bubblehead...?)

Kody outlived all expectations for greyhound longevity, and died at age 13.  Well before that sad time, however, she had one extravagant adventure up her doggie sweater sleeve.   We were having our sinking front porch re-built with proper concrete footings, etc.  The temporary door was a make-shift affair.  My wife, Sweetheart, and I were embarking upon a walkies (again, grandchildren!) with our niece and her family.  Kody wanted to come along.  She clawed at the door furiously until it opened, raced after us, got to the middle of a busy adjacent street and was hit broadside by a four-door pickup truck.  The driver was in tears as he, and we, gazed upon the panting, badly injured doggie, her stomach area filling with blood and fluid.  A trip to doggie emergency, several "panicked" phone calls from said doggie emergency hospital staff proclaiming Kody

Sweetheart walking Kody.  And that's
grandson, Coen, in the wagon being
pulled or pushed by a relative.
(Everyone seems to be walking
off the page!)

a “former doggie” if we didn’t agree to more and more curative measures.  Lots of anxiety and $3000.00 later, she came home.  Sweetheart hand-fed her, Kody, that is, cottage cheese and scrambled eggs until she, Kody, was fully recovered and could nibble her kibbles on her own from a standing position! 

The dog was voracious.  She ate or chewed everything, including tin cans, windowsills, our dinner, sidewalk refuse, fax paper...  I had to contact suppliers and clients to ask them to re-transmit.  "Why?" they’d ask.  I couldn’t bring myself to give them the real answer.  I felt silly, like a kid conjuring a ridiculous scenario to a teacher.  You know...  that classic if inane excuse?!!  A vet suggested, "Try tabasco sauce."  May as well have been honey on toast; she loved fax'es with tabasco!  Kody once ate an entire cheese cake, forcing poor Sweetheart to

Kody actually preferred her Fax
paper with Tabasco!  (Sigh!)

have to bake another, promised for a potluck affair.

6.)  I shall not strangle doggies who eat my favorite dessert!
7.)  I'm not giving up volleyball...  I don't care what anyone says!  Even though my knees and shoulders sound like a chuck-a-luck game! 
8.) I shall resolve to chew my food at least 25 times like my mother said...  or like someone’s mother said!(?) 
9.)  I’m giving up gum, and will encourage my nearest and dearest to do likewise!  [To be truthful, I don’t chew gum.  I dislike gum, and the slurpy, popping noises it makes in my sensitive little ears when others are chewing crazily within just a few inches of my precious earsies!  (Grandchildren, again!) ]  
10.)  I will stop loitering in the incontinence products aisle at Walgreens...  People are beginning to flirt shamelessly...  making lurid remarks!  
11.)  And see here, I'm not giving up coffee!  Tobacco?  Alright...  no more tobacco!!...  or gin! 
12.)  I refuse to give up blogging...  I feel I must, from time to time, record silly, ridiculous thoughts for posterity, and my own amusement, if for no one else's! 
13.  I'll see if Leonard will give me permission to use his name in the mystery story I'm writing...  also the part about being pelted with lemons...!!  

Ruby about to attack her "Kong,"
once it stopped rolling away from her.
The Kong contains peanut butter.
Ruby loves peanut butter!

We no longer have doggies of our own, but we do doggie sit for our daughter’s “Bodie” and for our friends‘ “Ruby” and, previously, for our niece’s “Bella” who, sadly, is no longer with us.

Ruby is a coon hound with a commanding voice, a sort of howling that likely carries to the next county.  On one occasion, we took her walkies in the neighborhood.  Upon hearing a scratching noise emanating from a green refuse container, we reconnoitered and found a raccoon trapped inside the deep, plastic and slippery bin.  We tipped the container to enable the raccoon to escape.  As said bandit-eyed critter ambled across the road, Ruby spied and howled menacingly at squirrels, rabbits, passers-by, an owl, other dogs, shrubbery, cars, a plumber in a truck...  Either she never noticed the raccoon, or perhaps she forgot her specific nomenclature!  (I sometimes forget things, too, of course, and I’m allegedly a sentient being!)

Well, I suppose there’s a point to all this...  isn’t there?  I mean, doggies are extraordinary creatures.  Best friends for life, unconditional love, delightful companions.  We loved and miss our own Nicky and Kody, but we’re privileged to have others in our lives, occasional visitors and house guests, including -- lest we forget to acknowledge him! -- Geo, a gorgeous Bernese Mountain dog who lives with Jeff, and occasionally visits his “grandmom” and our dear friend who lives upstairs, at which time we’re pleased to welcome Geo into our home.  With that, one more...

14.)  Be it resolved that, at our ages and based on past experiences and loss, we likely won’t adopt another doggie for permanent residency, but we’ll always stop to greet those we meet on the street, and we’ll welcome visiting DOGnitaries into our home and into our lives, with great and genuine pleasure! 

(Special Note of Gratitude and Attribution:  The perpetrator of this posting offers special thanks to our children, Alie and Bethie, and dear friends -- the latter including, of course, Rob and Sue, Susie and others -- who have encouraged our knowledge and love of doggies, the canine creatures kingdom in general.  Our lives are enriched as a result of the dogs we've lived with and known.  Thank You!)

Humbly Submitted, 01-26-16 -- Joel K.