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To Dream of Dogs

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klondike

To Dream of Dogs

Postby klondike » October 1st, 2008, 1:09 pm

Hi, Gang!
This here new thread, which I do most fervently hope to continue & grow, as has the Record Party, & Candids & Sailor Walks In, is a place to talk about the Dogs in Our Lives

a subject which, as you all by now know, is intimately close to my heart, and one which I suspect is pretty darn close to the hearts of many of yourselves, as well . .
Don't have a dogger in your life right now? Share pix and/or memories of the one(s) you used to share your home with, or maybe that unforgettable canine you grew up with, or remember most fondly. Devoted instead to a cat or two, or rodent(s), bird(s) or reptile(s)? Keep horses or livestock?
Hey, no disrespect, Folks, by this thread's about D O G S, 'kay? If you wish to honor another species of pet, by all means, begin a thread just for them! It's democracy at it's finest!
Now, as to the reason for this thread, at this time?
Seems I went ahead and misidentified those two sweethearts posing with Leslie Howard over in Mongo's CANDIDS thread: I nailed 'em as Springer Spaniels (couldn't zero-in on Welsh or English, so I left it generic) - but, past expertise notwithstanding I was right only in that they were from the Sporting Group - and our heavensent la Jefe, Moira, rode to the rescue, letting me down gently with a PM to clarify my mistake . . a PM which was so moirishly bright & well-worded it wound up inspiring this whole idea for a "dog city" thread . .
Oh, and BTW: they were English Setters, not Spaniels at all; Moira spotted (no pun intended) my error because she'd owned one of these delightful creatures, and now, thanks to her remembered tribute to her, I feel like I knew her, too!
Hopefully, this will trans-inspire the irrepressible Ms. Finnie to post herein and transcribe that very PM, which I'm itching to share with you all, but I feel is hers alone to contribute here, by etiquette & site protocol.
But, I shall surge forward nonetheless in sharing excerpts from my favorite poem, called to mind this morning by that very PM;
- from The Malamute, by Pat O'Cotter, circa 1918:

"He's a real chum with things coming easy,
He's a pal with things breaking tough,
He's a hell-roarin' fighting companion
When somebody starts something rough.

"He's a true Friend in sorrow & sickness,
And he doesn't mind hunger or cold,
And he's really the only pardner
You can trust if you uncover gold.

"He's a guard you can trust at the sluice box,
And he'll watch by your cache thru the night,
And if some cheechako tries to molest it,
That cheechako's in for a fight!

"He pulls on our sleds in the winter
He's first in the rushing stampede
He goes where a horse couldn't travel
And besides that he rustles his feed.

"He takes a pack saddle in summer
And follows us off thru the hills
And when we go short on the grub pile
He shares up whatever he kills.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"But you can't tell me God would make Heaven
So a man couldn't mix with his friends;
That we're doomed to meet disappointment
When we come to the place the trail ends.
That would be a low-grade sort of Heaven
And I'd never regret a damned sin
If I mush up to those gates, white & pearly,
And they don't let my Malamute in."
Last edited by klondike on October 2nd, 2008, 12:20 pm, edited 4 times in total.

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Postby knitwit45 » October 1st, 2008, 1:31 pm

"But you can't tell me God would make Heaven
So a man couldn't mix with his friends;
That we're doomed to meet disappointment
When we come to the place the trail ends.
That woudl be a low-grade sort of Heaven
And I'd never regret a damned sin
If I mush up to those gates, white & pearly,
And they don't let my Malamute in."



Heaven



A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.


He remembered dying, and that his faithful dog had been dead for many years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill,it was broken by a
tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch made from mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate made from pure gold. He and the dog
walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?" "This is heaven, sir," the man answered. "Wow!

Would you happen to have some water? We have traveled far," the man said. "Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open. "Can my
friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?"the traveler asked. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets." The man thought a moment, remembering all the years this dog remained loyal to him and then turned
back toward the road and continued the way he had been going.

After another long walk he came to a plain dirt road which led through a Farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book. "Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water? We have traveled far." "Yes, sure, there's a pump over
there." The man pointed to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in and help yourself." "How about my friend here?" the
traveler gestured to his dog. "There should be a bowl by the pump; he is welcome to share." They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them. "What do you call this place?" the traveler asked. "This is heaven," was the answer. "Well,
that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was heaven, too." "Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly
gates? Nope. That's hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No. We're just happy that they screen out the folks who'd leave their best friends behind in exchange for material things."



"A friend is someone who knows the song in your

heart and can sing it back to you when you have

forgotten the words."

Dedicated to my beloved Dobie, Babe; my sweet Belgian Malanois, Molly; the Feisty Poodle Bandit, my very first best friend, Cocker Spaniel Butch, and the current man in my life, Murphy, the wonder dog.
"Life is not the way it's supposed to be.. It's the way it is..
The way we cope with it, is what makes the difference." ~ Virginia Satir
""Most people pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it." ~ Soren Kierkegaard

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Postby moira finnie » October 1st, 2008, 1:49 pm

Okay, here's what I wrote to Klondike under the heading of "Springer Spaniel or English Setter?", prompted by the extremely happy memories evoked after seeing this photo that Mongo posted in his wonderful Candids thread:
Image

Dear Klon,
You're much more of a dog expert than I'll ever be, but my eyes filled with joy when I thought I recognized that Leslie Howard's dogs in the Candids thread photo may well have been English Setters, as seen in the photo below.
Image
A beautiful young pup of that noble breed had been thrown out of a car near my father's business when I was about 2. Fortunately for the setter, the bum who did this--after trying to train her too early to hunt, and rendering her gun shy for the rest of her life--picked a spot near one of the greatest lovers of animals since St. Francis. Dad brought her home to his four little kids and she grew up with me, following me everywhere, literally up trees, ladders, and down slides, especially when we had a small pool at the bottom of the slide in the summer. When I began school (a dark day for "Queenie" and me), she somehow knew exactly when my bus would be pulling up in front of the house, returning me home, and sat there, smiling to greet me when I bounced off the bus and ran into the woods with her.

Btw, thanks to that early crummy training, Queenie could tell us hours before the event when a thunderstorm would occur. She'd whine plaintively and hide under the nearest bed until things blew over. All I know is that if there's a heaven, and they let this low rent character in, she better be there, or I'll have a new bone to pick with the Supreme Being.
Fondly,
moira


I've had several dogs since then, but there's not a more beautiful dog who's ever lived in my heart than that Queenie. Do you have a favorite breed or mutt in your past or present? It would be fun to hear about it.

Does anyone know that beautiful poem about dogs being better than people--my sieve brain can't recall it, except that it always makes me choke up with emotion, (yes, the friends of dogs are saps).

*********************************
To finish this admittedly sentimental post, I'll post one of my favorite, film related dog tales, courtesy of Jimmy Stewart:
Image
By his own estimation, it was stretching it to call the funny and touching bits of doggerel that James Stewart wrote in late life by the word "poetry". Yet like the actor himself, there was more than a little art and a great deal of humanity in his amusing riffs on a dangerous step at a hotel in Argentina, or his random musings on a visit to Africa or, best of all, perhaps, his ditty about a dog named Beau.

When he died in 1997 at 89 this clip of Mr. Stewart reading his ode to "Beau" on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson was played on the news. If you watch it, one warning: it's a killer. Hankies ready?

For those of you who can't see the clip, I'll post the poem below. Perhaps it's best if you can imagine his voice reading it in his inimitable, halting style, with every inflection deeply felt evidence of this man's graceful talent.

"Beau" by James Stewart

He never came
to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn
and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light
and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the
Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house--
I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I'd give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.

And before very long
He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.

And there were nights when I'd feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.

And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of
lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.

And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.
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Postby movieman1957 » October 1st, 2008, 3:39 pm

What, no pictures? (Klondike, I know you have used yours for your Avatar.)

My family has two miniature daschunds. They are sisters and they love people food. They let me live with them.
Chris

"Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana."

jdb1

Postby jdb1 » October 1st, 2008, 3:47 pm

Knitty, one of my favorite dog stories, and one of my favorite episodes on The Twilight Zone. Know the one of which I speak? With Arthur Hunnicut and his ol' hound dog? I think the dog's name was Rip.

I was thinking of our Beautiful Maggie only this morning -- it's almost a year since she left us and I miss her every day. As I was walking to work this morning, a sweet little fluffy dog alongside his ladyfriend looked at me and wagged and strained at the leash as if he knew me. Maggie, although about five times the size of this cutie, got the same friendly, eager expression when she recognized a friend, even if it was a friend she'd never met before. Petting this little dog this morning made me feel a whole lot better.

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Postby movieman1957 » October 1st, 2008, 3:56 pm

Moira:

That clip is on those Best of Carson recordings plus I saw it the night Stewart read it. There wasn't a dry eye in the world that saw it. Real men do cry.
Chris

"Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana."

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Postby moira finnie » October 1st, 2008, 4:10 pm

Image
Each one of your entries has made this necessary, damn it.
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Corrie

Postby inglis » October 2nd, 2008, 10:05 am

My Gandmother bred Cairn Terriers in Scotland
I came home from School one day and found a letter with a parcel that contained a little tarten collar and a leash. My Mom told me that Grandma was sending a puppy from Scotland.We were so excited and could not wait . I remember going to the airport with my family and picking Corrie up in a special place there.He was the cutest little puppyI had ever seen and he was so excited to see us .His little paws just scratching away to get out of that cage .I can't imagine what it was like for him to come all that way and this was back 1967. We got him home and let him out and he went crazy and my Mom was crying she was so happy to have this little dog from home.It was a great event in our house and the fact that he came all that way and that my Grandma had sent him to us was more special to us than anthing we could have ever had at that time.I was going to Scotland with my Mom that July to see my Grandma for the first time . My brothers were born there but I was born in Canada .My Mom was so excited to take me home so that her Mom could see me and meet her little girl.My Grandma wrote me a letter and I still have this letter asking me how I was enjoying Corrie and was I taking him for little walks .We were just a few weeks away from leaving on our trip and my Grandma had a heart attack and died in her classroom she was still teaching at 64.I do not write this as I am not competing for it to be a tear jerker but to tell you all, that this was such a special gift she had sent to us.I did not get to meet her but Corrie although long gone now still has an impact on my life . Carol

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Postby knitwit45 » October 2nd, 2008, 10:21 am

Carol

For all the joy that Corrie brought you, I'm sure that joy doubled back to your dear Grandmother, knowing her little girl's little girl was holding a piece of home. Thanks for sharing such a sweet story with us.

Nancy

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Postby movieman1957 » October 2nd, 2008, 10:22 am

It's a lovely story Carol. Your grandmother sounds like a fine woman and I know how much you loved your mother and how much you still do.
Chris

"Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana."

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Postby moira finnie » October 2nd, 2008, 11:32 am

I'm sure that your grandmother would be overjoyed to know that she brought you so much happiness to this day. I know that you've no intention of making anyone cry, but...it is quite moving to read each succeeding entry in this thread, Carol.

Thanks so much for that story.
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thanks

Postby inglis » October 3rd, 2008, 10:45 am

Thankyou All ! for your kind words

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Postby bryce » October 3rd, 2008, 12:24 pm

Carol, I couldn't help but tear up at your story. What is it about dogs that make us love them so much? You reminded me of my first dog Panther. He was a Boston Terrier and was my best friend growing up. Despite the fact that he only lived two years he instilled in me a lifelong love of dogs. Mere weeks after he died my mother's friend brought us over a big ole mutt, with huge paws, wrapped in a blanket because she couldn't stand to see my heart broken. Brady came from an abused mother and a horrible home, and we tried our best to give him a good one. I moved away many times and had to leave him behind at my mother's, but every time I came back he was waiting for me, wagging tail and ready to kiss me and play, treating me as if I had never left. I did my best to make up for leaving by taking him for daily walks, he old and gray and nearly blind walking by my side unleashed like he never had before. He died last year at thirteen years of age and I then knew what it felt like to lose a family member. He will always be the yardstick by which I measure dogs, and much like your Corrie, he will always have an impact my life.

Now my mother has Sadie, a four month old beautiful little 4.6lb shih'tzu that acts like she's 46lbs! She rough houses more than Brady. If she bites onto a toy or piece of clothing you can lift her off the ground, she won't let go. Unlike any other dogs I've known, when Sadie gets a vaccination she doesn't tire out or get sick, she gets hyper, and wants to play and run around! She's a little ball of energy.

My mother bought her in August, a year and half or so after Brady died, to keep her company since she's all alone in her house. She also warms my grandmother's heart - she lives right across from my mother, and her little pikapoo Missy died in December '05. Sadie even has her own little "throne" in the backyard on one of the many large stones. She has the biggest growl and bark - especially when my mother tells her "no!" She has brought happiness back into my mother's life, something I've been worried about for years as she seemed to be in a depression. She stays awake later, she spends more time outside, she goes for walks, all because of little Sadie. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to take her with us.

Here are a couple of pictures:

[img][img]http://pic20.picturetrail.com/VOL1426/11578619/20566627/337589337.jpg[/img][/img]

She is VERY dismissive of the camera or anyone wanting her attention unless it suits her!

[img][img]http://pic20.picturetrail.com/VOL1426/11578619/20566627/337589339.jpg[/img][/img]

On her throne - here being photographed it suits her, apparently!

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Postby inglis » October 3rd, 2008, 1:47 pm

bryce wrote:Carol, I couldn't help but tear up at your story. What is it about dogs that make us love them so much? You reminded me of my first dog Panther. He was a Boston Terrier and was my best friend growing up. Despite the fact that he only lived two years he instilled in me a lifelong love of dogs. Mere weeks after he died my mother's friend brought us over a big ole mutt, with huge paws, wrapped in a blanket because she couldn't stand to see my heart broken. Brady came from an abused mother and a horrible home, and we tried our best to give him a good one. I moved away many times and had to leave him behind at my mother's, but every time I came back he was waiting for me, wagging tail and ready to kiss me and play, treating me as if I had never left. I did my best to make up for leaving by taking him for daily walks, he old and gray and nearly blind walking by my side unleashed like he never had before. He died last year at thirteen years of age and I then knew what it felt like to lose a family member. He will always be the yardstick by which I measure dogs, and much like your Corrie, he will always have an impact my life.

Now my mother has Sadie, a four month old beautiful little 4.6lb shih'tzu that acts like she's 46lbs! She rough houses more than Brady. If she bites onto a toy or piece of clothing you can lift her off the ground, she won't let go. Unlike any other dogs I've known, when Sadie gets a vaccination she doesn't tire out or get sick, she gets hyper, and wants to play and run around! She's a little ball of energy.

My mother bought her in August, a year and half or so after Brady died, to keep her company since she's all alone in her house. She also warms my grandmother's heart - she lives right across from my mother, and her little pikapoo Missy died in December '05. Sadie even has her own little "throne" in the backyard on one of the many large stones. She has the biggest growl and bark - especially when my mother tells her "no!" She has brought happiness back into my mother's life, something I've been worried about for years as she seemed to be in a depression. She stays awake later, she spends more time outside, she goes for walks, all because of little Sadie. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to take her with us.

Here are a couple of pictures:

[img][img]http://pic20.picturetrail.com/VOL1426/11578619/20566627/337589337.jpg[/img][/img]

She is VERY dismissive of the camera or anyone wanting her attention unless it suits her!

[img][img]http://pic20.picturetrail.com/VOL1426/11578619/20566627/337589339.jpg[/img][/img]

On her throne - here being photographed it suits her, apparently!
Bryce what a beautiful little dog so cute .Is that you in the picture? Its a great shot a really happy shot

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Postby mongoII » October 6th, 2008, 4:56 pm

My boy Jeter.
It all began in 2007 after we lost two of our beloved pets Sammy (a poodle) and Huntz (a boxer) within the same year.

Off we went to the Humane Society where many dogs were on display awaiting to be adopted. After looking around we kept coming back to a small dog lying in front of his cage, quiet, ears down, staring straight ahead, with the tip of his tongue sticking out. He wouldn't look at nobody. It seemed no one was interested in him.
We finally took him out on the grounds where he exposed a docile face and we decided he was deaf since he didn't respond to our voices.
Of course we eventually took him home.

A few days later the headline in our local paper read '79 dogs found in filthy home' consisting of terier-mix or chihuahua-mix dogs. After looking at the pictures in the paper we spotted a few that looked like our dog.
We had a Jackchi! We could only imagine what he went through it that house.

Needless to say once Jeter got settled his hearing is pristine, his bark is sharp, and he runs like a banchee. He also likes to roll on dead bugs, loves to eat, plays with toys (dilapidated ones are his favorite), and barks when he has to do his duty.
Most of all he is loyal and lovable, especially with his tongue sticking out. What more can we ask for?


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