Chapter 39 (Animals I’ve Known and Loved, cont.)
CLAUDE, THE CLOD
The next winter a yellow German shepherd pup of about 4 to 6 months old followed Joanna home from skating in vestal Center. The dog had no collar. I looked in the “Lost and Found” section of the classifieds and found no missing pups. Of course Jo wanted to keep him, but her father protested, and insisted that the dog stay outside.
After a half-hearted attempt to find the dog’s owners, the kids and I took a united front and talked Al into letting us keep the dog. It was plain to see the dog wasn’t used to being in a home… He stepped into the dog dish, knocked over the water dish, and bumped into every piece of furniture in the house. So we called him Claude (but secretly meaning, “Clod”). Once he got used to things he developed into a more suave and careful indoor pet.
At first this half-grown pup was the friendliest dog on the face of this earth, welcoming all who would step over him on the front stoop. We were sure he was a mixed breed as his triangular ears fell over at their tips giving the impression of two question marks over his wide-eyed, innocent, puppy-dog face.
His ears had grown straight up soon after, and he looked pure blooded German shepherd--a perfect picture of an yellow Alsatian. In April, 1974, we started taking Claude as well as Wendy with us on camping trips. In 1973 we had bought a Scamper Mini Motorhome. Wendy had always been the perfect dog when at a campground.
Being interested in Camping Shows, at the 1974 one at the Binghamton Armory we joined The Scampouts--a group of happy campers. When camping we would have to bring the two dogs along, as it was difficult and costly as long as the campground allowed pets. Claude was a completely unruly camper. I would keep him on a leash, but release him in the walk areas in remote parts of campgrounds. He caught on to any little gesture that indicated he was going back on the leash and would run off ignoring my calls. Soon he discovered that this meant less freedom than more, as I would then keep him on the leash at all times. So, fortunately, he learned to walk properly on the leash and was turning out to be a good dog. I anticipated having NO problems with him in the future… Boy was I wrong.
CLAUDE, THE CLOD
The next winter a yellow German shepherd pup of about 4 to 6 months old followed Joanna home from skating in vestal Center. The dog had no collar. I looked in the “Lost and Found” section of the classifieds and found no missing pups. Of course Jo wanted to keep him, but her father protested, and insisted that the dog stay outside.
After a half-hearted attempt to find the dog’s owners, the kids and I took a united front and talked Al into letting us keep the dog. It was plain to see the dog wasn’t used to being in a home… He stepped into the dog dish, knocked over the water dish, and bumped into every piece of furniture in the house. So we called him Claude (but secretly meaning, “Clod”). Once he got used to things he developed into a more suave and careful indoor pet.
At first this half-grown pup was the friendliest dog on the face of this earth, welcoming all who would step over him on the front stoop. We were sure he was a mixed breed as his triangular ears fell over at their tips giving the impression of two question marks over his wide-eyed, innocent, puppy-dog face.
His ears had grown straight up soon after, and he looked pure blooded German shepherd--a perfect picture of an yellow Alsatian. In April, 1974, we started taking Claude as well as Wendy with us on camping trips. In 1973 we had bought a Scamper Mini Motorhome. Wendy had always been the perfect dog when at a campground.
Being interested in Camping Shows, at the 1974 one at the Binghamton Armory we joined The Scampouts--a group of happy campers. When camping we would have to bring the two dogs along, as it was difficult and costly as long as the campground allowed pets. Claude was a completely unruly camper. I would keep him on a leash, but release him in the walk areas in remote parts of campgrounds. He caught on to any little gesture that indicated he was going back on the leash and would run off ignoring my calls. Soon he discovered that this meant less freedom than more, as I would then keep him on the leash at all times. So, fortunately, he learned to walk properly on the leash and was turning out to be a good dog. I anticipated having NO problems with him in the future… Boy was I wrong.
posted by Cranberry Jo @ 11/03/2007 05:58:00 PM
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