ME AND MY PETS - Part 1

 This is a new series.  It makes me laugh and cry every time I think of some of these events.  I thought I would share - and maybe you can laugh with me each Monday for a while.

  As background, you will need to know that I have two sisters, one two years and the other four years younger than me.  We grew up in a house style that was called a St. Louis.  It was two small homes (two bedrooms and one bath) built one on top of the other.  It was like a two-apartment building - separate entrances,  a shared basement and a shared third floor with two bed rooms and an attic.  My grandparents lived in the upper apartment.  I might also add that we, the kids, were not allowed to go up to their apartment unless summoned.  

 My very first pet encounter was with a dog when I was about five or six.  We received an all-black cocker spaniel for Christmas.  We called it "Jingles" - short for Jingle Bells.  I have a clear memory of my sisters chasing the poor puppy incessantly.  It learned to hide under our dining room table but that didn't stop them from crawling after it.  It was soon determined that we (my sisters and I) were too young for a dog.  It was sent up stairs to my grandparents and lived out its life there, I suppose.  My grandfather loved it.  

 In those days, the early 1950s, no one walked their dog in our neighborhood.  You just chained them in your yard or let them run.  I don't remember Jingles dying or whatever became of him.  I do remember that he was afraid to ride in our car.  My grandparents didn't have a car.  Once, he got a bone stuck in his throat and we took him to the vet for extraction.  After that, he never minded the car.  One other tidbit about that dog - and I hope this doesn't make you sick; my grandfather, who everyone called Pa, had an ulcerous leg - a sore that would not heal.  That dog would lick that scaly sore for Pa all the time.  It seemed it was good for both of them.   

🐶