The first dogs I had as an adult were two Shetland Sheepdogs from the same litter that we named Jamaica and Tequila. Can you guess that we liked to party a lot by their names? I was living with my sister and her son at the time and one morning Tequila ate the last Hostess Ho Ho that my nephew left lying on the coffee table while he went to get something to drink. She gobbled it right up and he was so mad he stomped her poor little foot and broke it! Yeah, we had to give them away after that because we were afraid that he’d either lose his temper again and accidently (or who knows? Maybe purposely?) kill them both or that he wouldn’t and they’d bite him after he hit or kicked them. Yeah, it wasn’t a good mix.
The first three dogs we had as a married couple were BoBo, Pookie and Lucy. Ironically they were all three black dogs. We didn’t purposely go after black dogs, it just happened that way. BoBo was a lab mixed with something smaller. She probably weighed about 30 pounds and was as sweet as could be. She had the puppies I posted pictures of one time of #1 playing with them.
Pookie we got not long after we got BoBo. I had bought BoBo for hubby for Chirstmas and shortly thereafter we decided she needed a companion so the old vet (and I DO mean OLD… he was probably 70 or 80 then) that used to eat at hubby’s restaurant told him that someone had turned in a little boy puppy that was probably going to be a small dog and it would probably be a good fit for BoBo. Well, it did turn out that SHE was a good fit but he was a she and we never even CHECKED…we had just taken the vet’s word for it and thought we didn’t have to worry about getting him fixed anytime soon since it was a boy. Next thing we knew HE was having puppies! And we just thought he was getting fat! Oh, and she was a pure black lab….
Lucy was another lab we acquired roundabout through our neighbors. They had gotten her litter mate which was a yellow lab and someone she worked with had gotten Lucy but they lived in an apartment and couldn’t keep her so we took her. She was such a sweet dog and we had her about 12 years I think.
The dog that for some reason made the biggest impression on me (other than Chorizo of course) was Fuzzy. Fuzzy was a sort of long haired German Sheppard mix (maybe mixed with collie?) that was the sweetest dog but was fiercely protective of us as kids.
He was very smart too. Every morning we would go down to the bus stop and wait for the school bus and he would go down with us and wait for the bus with us. In the evenings we didn’t get off the bus at our house and for some reason he knew this. We would get off the bus at the little commissary at the soapstone plant that was about a mile from our house because the post office was down there and we’d go by and pick up our mail and walk home the back way. Without fail he would be waiting in front of Walter Witt’s store when we got off the school bus and walk home with us! I don’t know how he knew what time the bus came or how he knew to start waiting out in front of the store but he did and he faithfully waited there for us every single day.
I remember once in particular we had some family friends visiting one evening and we were gathered around our stone patio talking and joking around. Fuzzy was sitting beside me to my left and the family friend was sitting to the right of me. I think there was a person in between us. I couldn’t have been more than 8 or 10 years old. I said something that was most likely “fresh mouthed” and the friend (who was an adult woman, my mother’s age) reached across to “smack” my leg. Not hard, just jokingly. Well, Fuzzy didn’t think it was so funny because he lunged across me after her with his hackles raised snarling like he was going to rip her to shreds. We had to grab him before he got her. He wasn’t too fond of her after that and always made sure after that if she was over he sat between me and wherever she was.
It seems like it wasn’t too long of a time after that when Fuzzy went missing. I am not in any way suggesting the friend had anything to do with it. That’s just how I remember him disappearing. Anyway, we got off the bus one evening and he wasn’t there. We knew right away that something was wrong. It was totally not in his character for him not to be there when we got off the bus. The next morning he still wasn’t there and that evening either. My brothers found him a couple of days later. Someone had shot him and dumped him in the ditch across the road from our house! I do remember that it broke my heart because I loved that dog.
I still remember that little ditty I used to sing to him “Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear, Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair… Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t fuzzy wuzzy!” Then I’d laugh hysterically as if he understood the joke and changed the words up to make them more fitting “Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t a bear (although he looked like one)…Fuzzy was had LOTS of hair! Fuzzy Wuzzy was VERY fuzzy wuzzy!” And he’d jump around and lick my face while I laughed hysterically at my own dumb joke. Yeah, I guess I was always a dork. Poor Fuzzy may not have been a bear but he had lots of hair and lots of heart and he stole mine.