Sunday, November 30, 2008
For as long as I can remember I have loved and cared about dogs. When I was little it was beagles. My father had around 14 of them for hunting (yeah, he must have been obsessed too) and I can remember playing with them in their doghouses. I would lay in the straw with them and talk to them for hours. Sometimes I'd hook one of them (or 2 or 3) to a leash and take them for a walk. They were my friends.
The neighborhood strays were also my friends, back in the 60's people didn't confine their dogs like they do now. I remember Bootsy, a boxer x and Brownie, a lab x. I didn't know their real names but that's what I called them. One time I brought them into my house and hid them away in one of the spare bedrooms. My mother found them and let them go and I felt so bad that they couldn't stay with us.
I can remember a big barrel of Purina Dog Chow in the hallway near the door for the beagles. I used to take handfuls for a snack for myself. I thought it was quite good at the time.
Now, I would never accept seeing those poor beagles living in a kennel in doghouses without trying to help them but back then, I just didn't understand why they couldn't live inside. I still don't. How could anyone not want these sweet, cuddly little creatures inside with them?