ANIMALS I’VE KNOWN AND LOVED

Chapter 1

When I was a very young child in Winthrop, Massachusetts, my family owned a dog named Ginger. Someone took a picture of her and me sharing popcorn on the front porch hammock. I wish I had that photo, but, like so many memories, if it wasn’t lost, it has probably faded. I was just a toddler then. I never knew a time in my childhood when I wasn’t around animals. More than being a part of the family--they were a part of my life. There’s a gentleness about our pets when found in people, that trait is lauded as a purity of heart.

My mother told me that I used to “help out” after supper by letting the dog lick the plates. However, I thought the dog did such a good job, I put them away in the low cupboard where they belonged. Mom used to have to tilt the plates to see if they were dish washed or “licked clean.” I guess even back then I thought animals should have purpose.

The first dog I can consciously remember was Heather, a brown mongrel dam that prolifically supplied us with puppies each year. To me that was her purpose in life--to supply myself and four brothers some fun once in awhile. I can remember our getting the squirming brood all excited and running into the living room, throwing ourselves on the floor, covering our heads with our arms, while the pups in pursuit would squeak, chew and claw trying to bet at us. My mom always found homes for all the pups despite our protests--but we knew that we’d have another brood of playmates in time.