Finding puppy love at Christmas | Ferry Home Companion
Published 4:45 pm Monday, January 5, 2015
On Christmas day we went out to the family morning gift exchange. We were a bit surprised by the number of friends.
After an elegant brunch they headed to the stockings and packages to be presented to the family from grandchildren to grandparents.
Leader Jane announced that the number one gift was for Helen and myself.
“Half the town knows about this…and here she is. A cockapoodle for Howard and Helen. We remembered how shook up they were when we lost Spring last year, who spent almost half her time staying with them when we were away.”
We were overjoyed.
It has taken us a week to name this bundle of loving warmth: Sandy. It matches her color and the colors of our rooms, and the only Sandy person we know is the boundlessly energetic partner of Ron Bates.
You probably are wondering what in the world would a 93-year-old “newsy” cares about a puppy. Here’s the “what.”
When I was a few years old and we had moved to Omaha from Pottawattamie county in Iowa following a flood, we finally got a decent apartment. My mother got me a puppy. She also refurnished the rooms and had a great furry white rug. Within a week, the rug was ruined. The dog’s name was changed to “Spot.” It disappeared.
My mother asked my brother to not tell that they took him back to the pound. Shortly after, I was walking along the sidewalk carrying a big branch and a white Spitz grabbed my leg and pulled me across the yard.
My brother killed it with a brick and it turned out to have rabies. I lucked out but feared dogs for years.
Ten year later I was on a newspaper route in the hills of Omaha where a great dane used to bark from a big hill on the road. I’d race like mad after tossing the Omaha World Herald on the porch. The dog would bark from the locked porch. One time it got loose and leaped on me as I sped away downhill and I was knocked out amid my bag full of Sunday papers. I woke up and the dog was licking my face. That did it, and I’ve had dogs ever since until recently.
The whole family pitched in and went down to Oregon to get this wonderful gift. I swear, we’re reading all of the literature Steve Maas, master dog trainer, is bringing to us to make Sandy’s master and mistress live up to her vibrant, loving little body.
Here’s hoping your holiday were as joyous as ours… ruff, ruff.
—Columnist Howard Schonberger
Go with the F.L.O.W. Ferry (and furry) Lovers Of Washington
