Above - Pat B, me in my knee socks around age 8?, and Juddy Dog
I'm enjoying a leisurely Sunday a.m. (went to church last night, just in case you're worried about my immortal soul). Read the paper - doesn't seem to take long these days. Paul made blueberry pancakes and bolted to put up a tree stand for hunting. His therapy.
Instead of watching Sports Center as I do when guys are around, I'm watching The Morning Show on CBS. They just did a segment showing one of the older New York columnist type guys adopting a dog. His first. Ever.
It was sort of a tongue in cheek segment, self deprecating and all that. But it made me think about the dogs in my life. All four of 'em. Jud (the dog not the son- named after my dad just like my son was) of course was my first doggy brother. He was a big part of our lives - mine especially since we were the same age. We grew up together. He was a full sized dachshund - big boned and sturdy.
Dog ownership seemed so simple back then - in my youthful eyes. I didn't pay attention to the work part of caring for Jud - except for shaking the dog food into his bowl. He had a license on his collar, and roamed the neighborhood far and wide. One time I recall Mom having to go get him from someplace a few blocks away as he was romantically attracted to a bitch in heat. Mom didn't quite explain it that bluntly back then though...
When Jud was a few years old, he was hit by a car - breaking his hip. Most families would said goodbye at that point, but my mom insisted we take him to a vet clinic in Red Oak for surgery to pin his hip - at quite a cost I'm sure. He had to stay there several days and came home in a cast. He had to be carried outside to potty each time. Eventually the cast came off and he still had a metal pin sticking out. Then they took that out and only a scar remained - and his tenancy to run a little crooked.
Jud was extremely loyal, watching over his kids as we made our way around town. He followed me to school several times, necessitating a call to Mom to come get him. When those nasty Mallon boys came to harass us while we played in the yard and neighboring "woods", I always sicced Jud on them and they'd run away. He was a fierce barker, though never bit anyone (that I know of).
Jud did no tricks. He couldn't sit up, play dead or speak. But he was most talented at calming angst and protecting a nervous babysitter (me - after watching an evening of Creature Feature, with Dr. Sanguinary on an Omaha TV station). Juddy loved food, and enjoyed rides in the car, especially when the destination was Dairy Queen where he got a $.05 cup of vanilla.
To this day I believe Moki, the wonder dog Westie we shared our lives with from 1990 until 2004, channeled Jud. He had very similar qualities - he too was large boned (read chubby). He was very protective - mea culpa to the paper girl, Molly Hurlbert, who he did chomp on. In his defense he was on a chain in the front when she came at him with a rolled up newspaper. And he was smart and loyal.
Dogs are a hassle. They shed, ruin furniture, floors and leave bones and toys all over. They are expensive - medical care, food, chewies etc. They require planning - daily care and vacation care. And then they go and die on you - leaving you heartbroken. But they're worth it. Friday afternoon when I returned home after a long hard week of work, Odie was here to greet me - beside herself with joy! And in her expressive brown eyes I can see earnest devotion - something everyone needs.
