The Night of Remembrance of Family Pets
Oct. 30th, 2006 12:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stitchwhichAt first glance, tonight's remembrance seems banal, doesn't it? Or maybe it would to someone who has never had pets...
When I was in sixth grade and Junior High, my mom let my brother and I live with her again. We did the 'family' thing and got a dog. We couldn't decide on a name for him (my step-father didn't care so wasn't involved in the naming) so the dog ended up with all three names: Sir Pumpkin Prince. Yes, I was at the 'silly adolecent' stage and was responsible for "Pumpkin". In my defense, when he first came to us he was the *exact* shade of pumpkin all over his body. And later, I just called him "Fats", which he answered to faster than anything else.
He was a beagle/dauschund mix. We think. He ended up with beagle ears and almost the height but with a dauschund's thick body. His markings were beagle, save that everything brown/black ended up being (forgive me) pumpkin-orange. I loved him dearly. I'd never had a dog for longer than a few months before, my mother always became bored with them and gave them away. Fats quickly decided he was my dog and sat at my feet, slept on my bed, followed me to the apple tree and laid beneath it while I sat in the branches and read. I cried into his neck more than once and had my tears licked away and got snuffles in my ears... he patiently sat beside me as I weeded my mom's garden and careful stayed out of my own garden nook (I designed a small 'japanese' garden in one corner of the back yard - there was a nook created by Douglas Fir trees where nothing 'useful' would grow. So I put in a small pond, rocks gathered during my hikes, laid down moss and set a tiny temple lantern in there). Fats and I would sometimes lay beside it and listen to the insects buzzing around the water.
He'd play 'fetch' for about three throws and then he was done. He loved to run, though, and our game was for him to run to the apple tree while I went somewhere else in the yard (we had over an acre of land in the middle of the city, so had a formal yard, a 'back yard' bounded by a row of Douglas Fir, then a 'back field' with a kitchen garden on one side and meadow on the other. At the furthest corner of the 'meadow' was the Granny Smith apple tree). Once we were well seperated, I'd call him. "Pumpkin! Here, Pumpkin! HEY FATS!" and he'd come bounding towards my voice, his ears and his tail the only things visible in the tall grass of the meadow or garden - two orange flops, then one stick-tail, then two closer orange flops. He'd race flat-out once I was in sight and launch himself at my chest. Then I'd catch him and try - never succeeding - to fend off a face-wash. It'd end with me tucking him (sort of) under one arm so the other one would be free to scratch his ears and pet him. "You silly thing," I'd say. "You're just a big puppy, you know that?" and we'd go off to do whatever my mom had decided was my next chore.
Just after I entered High School, my mom sent me to live with my (unknown) Grandparents in Utah. I had developed an ulcer and the Doc threatened her with The Authorities, so off Bill and I went. At least I got my brother. Anyway, when we came back a year later, Fats wasn't there. My mom explained that she knew she couldn't take care of him so she'd dumped him on a street where lots of kids were playing. I have no idea what ever happened to him.
That was years ago. He'd be long gone even if I had been able to find him again. Until I had Gimli in my life, I never loved an animal so much, nor was given such unjustified love in return.
So here's to you, Fats, Sir Pumpkin Prince, best dog-buddy and wrestle-partner. I miss you.
When I was in sixth grade and Junior High, my mom let my brother and I live with her again. We did the 'family' thing and got a dog. We couldn't decide on a name for him (my step-father didn't care so wasn't involved in the naming) so the dog ended up with all three names: Sir Pumpkin Prince. Yes, I was at the 'silly adolecent' stage and was responsible for "Pumpkin". In my defense, when he first came to us he was the *exact* shade of pumpkin all over his body. And later, I just called him "Fats", which he answered to faster than anything else.
He was a beagle/dauschund mix. We think. He ended up with beagle ears and almost the height but with a dauschund's thick body. His markings were beagle, save that everything brown/black ended up being (forgive me) pumpkin-orange. I loved him dearly. I'd never had a dog for longer than a few months before, my mother always became bored with them and gave them away. Fats quickly decided he was my dog and sat at my feet, slept on my bed, followed me to the apple tree and laid beneath it while I sat in the branches and read. I cried into his neck more than once and had my tears licked away and got snuffles in my ears... he patiently sat beside me as I weeded my mom's garden and careful stayed out of my own garden nook (I designed a small 'japanese' garden in one corner of the back yard - there was a nook created by Douglas Fir trees where nothing 'useful' would grow. So I put in a small pond, rocks gathered during my hikes, laid down moss and set a tiny temple lantern in there). Fats and I would sometimes lay beside it and listen to the insects buzzing around the water.
He'd play 'fetch' for about three throws and then he was done. He loved to run, though, and our game was for him to run to the apple tree while I went somewhere else in the yard (we had over an acre of land in the middle of the city, so had a formal yard, a 'back yard' bounded by a row of Douglas Fir, then a 'back field' with a kitchen garden on one side and meadow on the other. At the furthest corner of the 'meadow' was the Granny Smith apple tree). Once we were well seperated, I'd call him. "Pumpkin! Here, Pumpkin! HEY FATS!" and he'd come bounding towards my voice, his ears and his tail the only things visible in the tall grass of the meadow or garden - two orange flops, then one stick-tail, then two closer orange flops. He'd race flat-out once I was in sight and launch himself at my chest. Then I'd catch him and try - never succeeding - to fend off a face-wash. It'd end with me tucking him (sort of) under one arm so the other one would be free to scratch his ears and pet him. "You silly thing," I'd say. "You're just a big puppy, you know that?" and we'd go off to do whatever my mom had decided was my next chore.
Just after I entered High School, my mom sent me to live with my (unknown) Grandparents in Utah. I had developed an ulcer and the Doc threatened her with The Authorities, so off Bill and I went. At least I got my brother. Anyway, when we came back a year later, Fats wasn't there. My mom explained that she knew she couldn't take care of him so she'd dumped him on a street where lots of kids were playing. I have no idea what ever happened to him.
That was years ago. He'd be long gone even if I had been able to find him again. Until I had Gimli in my life, I never loved an animal so much, nor was given such unjustified love in return.
So here's to you, Fats, Sir Pumpkin Prince, best dog-buddy and wrestle-partner. I miss you.
