Chapter 13 (Freedom and Animals, cont.)
Gayle‘s Companion, Millie
Tom’s dear little beagle, Holly, had the best ending to her life, being able to be unleashed because of her deafness and aged eyesight, she knew a new kind of freedom, exploring all the woods about us without restraint, but with the company of my Lab, Gayle, and myself. When Holly died, it left us with a feeling of something missing in our life, and especially with Gayle. Tom missed having a good hunting dog, and I don’t think he even realized he was looking for just that to replace Holly.
Tom and I were eating breakfast one Sunday at the Stables Restaurant in Montrose, and before going in we had seen an advertisement: “Springer Spaniel Puppies for Sale.” Over breakfast we discussed getting another dog. Having always felt responsible for anything to do with Gayle, I didn’t want to have another for whose mistakes or faults I was to be the blame. If we got another dog, I insisted it would be a dog for Tom.
Tom always liked to poke fun at me… get my goat… get me going. I guess I was funny when defending my dogs, or whatever was near and dear that he was poking fun at, or blaming it for some broken item or chewed up shoe.
Despite his barbs about Wendy, the Springer I already had when we married, who had previously proved to be a good hunting dog to the neighbor’s beagle way back when, he really had nothing against the English Springer breed, and thought they were good hunting dogs. So, we took the telephone number for the puppies, called it while still in Montrose, and having nothing better to do, went to see the puppies that very moring. There is NOTHING cuter than an English Springer spaniel puppy, and we liked one black and white female the best. The people raising the pups were from the city, and I think they had the misconception that raising puppies could be profitable. They even kept pigeons for the pups to practice their retrieving skills, and having bound a wing, would release them, and our little pup retrieved… kind of… the poor little pigeon, unharmed, but scared to death.
After worming, puppy shots, tails docked, and advertisements in the paper for pups for none under $500 and few takers, they were forced to lower the prices. We got our beautiful black and white Springer for around $300, putting what little cash was in our pockets at the time as a down payment to save this pup for us. We were already in love with her, Gayle included, as we had taken her over to meet her young companion to give her approval. We said we had to make sure the chemistry was good between the Lab and our new pup, and Gayle sniffed her approval. Later we called, and made arrangements to go down and pick up our new pup, Millie .
We still had that pet carrier, and it was just the right size for a crate for a Springer, so we decided she was to make that her crate, and she’d sleep there at night. What a baby! We were going to be hard hearted and bear with the crying for the first night, but couldn’t stand it. Little Millie, being used to sleeping with her parents and sibling pups was lonely and breaking our hearts. We knew that she’d let us know if she had to use the newspapers in the kitchen, rather than soil their place for sleep, but having brought up Gayle properly, we thought the idea of a dog having it’s own sleeping quarters was good for the dog. We finally gave in, not being able to stand the howling pup, and took her into bed with us, and before she settled down …even with our cuddling and babying her… she had those gasping sobs that a person gets who has been crying for too long a time without comfort. It still pulls at my heartstrings thinking about those puppy sobs. She claimed a spot on our bed by Tom’s feet, and was to sleep there at night for the rest of her life, and Gayle, who preferred the floor wasn‘t at all jealous.
Our new pup, Millie, seemed to want to bite Gayle’s neck in a kind of joyful glee when we’d set out to take a walk. I tried to train it out of her, though Gayle seemed to take her puppy expressiveness in stride, and in time she grew out of it, but never grew out of loving her companion Gayle.
Before long Tom was hunting and showing Millie the game… he shot a squirrel and gave Millie the skin. She dashed about the yard tossing it up and catching it and playing with it like her favorite stuffed toy. Later she went pheasant hunting with Tom, and had the same delight with the dead pheasant, not really wanting to give it up to the hunters, but did, and proved to be a good hunting dog.
Millie was Tom’s first indoor dog that was truly his own. I wouldn’t let him get away with letting me do all the exercising, though she went along on Gayle and my walks. First thing each morning when Tom went down the long driveway to get the newspaper, he was to take Millie on a leash. If Millie was sitting by anyone in the living room, it was to be Tom. Though I was equally responsible for house training--our training manual for bringing up Gayle being a big help--we raised this dog together. In looking back at the journals, I realized how alone I was at the job of bring up a Guiding Eyes Puppy, and how responsible I was for anything she inadvertently chewed or clumsily broke. I took a lot of crap, and I wasn’t going to let that be my responsibility with Millie. I even would get to say what I’d heard so often when Gayle was a pup, “Look what YOUR dog did!” It’s tough to bring up a pup. Every time I do from back when until now, I say, “Never again.” However, Millie was a gentle and lovable pup, making her puppy-hood more pleasurable than not.
Best of all, Gayle had a companion to play with, and she gladly shared her games with tennis balls and both could chew on the rawhide bones without fighting over them. When they got restless in the evening while Tom and I watched TV, we invented the game, “Hide the Bones!” They would patiently await with anticipation in the bedroom while we took fragments of Milk Bones, and hid them all around the living room and kitchen. Every place we could think to where they could track them down with their great sense of smell we’d put a fragment. Then we’d release them to find the bones. Somehow they never tired of that game… duh! Anything that involved a bone--meaning a dog treat--they would do. I can understand why dogs are so trainable, however, there’s a screw missing in my mind when it comes to dog training, as I always let them manipulate me instead. I never liked being strict with children or animals, and if I could curb their bad manners in a loving way, and as long as they didn’t do anything dangerous, I kept either on a pretty loose leash sort to speak.
To keep my grandchildren up on what was going on, I added to their photo story collection a book, Gayle’s Companion, and how she was lonely and everyone and everything had a companion in life except her until there was Millie.
Gayle‘s Companion, Millie
Tom’s dear little beagle, Holly, had the best ending to her life, being able to be unleashed because of her deafness and aged eyesight, she knew a new kind of freedom, exploring all the woods about us without restraint, but with the company of my Lab, Gayle, and myself. When Holly died, it left us with a feeling of something missing in our life, and especially with Gayle. Tom missed having a good hunting dog, and I don’t think he even realized he was looking for just that to replace Holly.
Tom and I were eating breakfast one Sunday at the Stables Restaurant in Montrose, and before going in we had seen an advertisement: “Springer Spaniel Puppies for Sale.” Over breakfast we discussed getting another dog. Having always felt responsible for anything to do with Gayle, I didn’t want to have another for whose mistakes or faults I was to be the blame. If we got another dog, I insisted it would be a dog for Tom.
Tom always liked to poke fun at me… get my goat… get me going. I guess I was funny when defending my dogs, or whatever was near and dear that he was poking fun at, or blaming it for some broken item or chewed up shoe.
Despite his barbs about Wendy, the Springer I already had when we married, who had previously proved to be a good hunting dog to the neighbor’s beagle way back when, he really had nothing against the English Springer breed, and thought they were good hunting dogs. So, we took the telephone number for the puppies, called it while still in Montrose, and having nothing better to do, went to see the puppies that very moring. There is NOTHING cuter than an English Springer spaniel puppy, and we liked one black and white female the best. The people raising the pups were from the city, and I think they had the misconception that raising puppies could be profitable. They even kept pigeons for the pups to practice their retrieving skills, and having bound a wing, would release them, and our little pup retrieved… kind of… the poor little pigeon, unharmed, but scared to death.
After worming, puppy shots, tails docked, and advertisements in the paper for pups for none under $500 and few takers, they were forced to lower the prices. We got our beautiful black and white Springer for around $300, putting what little cash was in our pockets at the time as a down payment to save this pup for us. We were already in love with her, Gayle included, as we had taken her over to meet her young companion to give her approval. We said we had to make sure the chemistry was good between the Lab and our new pup, and Gayle sniffed her approval. Later we called, and made arrangements to go down and pick up our new pup, Millie .
We still had that pet carrier, and it was just the right size for a crate for a Springer, so we decided she was to make that her crate, and she’d sleep there at night. What a baby! We were going to be hard hearted and bear with the crying for the first night, but couldn’t stand it. Little Millie, being used to sleeping with her parents and sibling pups was lonely and breaking our hearts. We knew that she’d let us know if she had to use the newspapers in the kitchen, rather than soil their place for sleep, but having brought up Gayle properly, we thought the idea of a dog having it’s own sleeping quarters was good for the dog. We finally gave in, not being able to stand the howling pup, and took her into bed with us, and before she settled down …even with our cuddling and babying her… she had those gasping sobs that a person gets who has been crying for too long a time without comfort. It still pulls at my heartstrings thinking about those puppy sobs. She claimed a spot on our bed by Tom’s feet, and was to sleep there at night for the rest of her life, and Gayle, who preferred the floor wasn‘t at all jealous.
Our new pup, Millie, seemed to want to bite Gayle’s neck in a kind of joyful glee when we’d set out to take a walk. I tried to train it out of her, though Gayle seemed to take her puppy expressiveness in stride, and in time she grew out of it, but never grew out of loving her companion Gayle.
Before long Tom was hunting and showing Millie the game… he shot a squirrel and gave Millie the skin. She dashed about the yard tossing it up and catching it and playing with it like her favorite stuffed toy. Later she went pheasant hunting with Tom, and had the same delight with the dead pheasant, not really wanting to give it up to the hunters, but did, and proved to be a good hunting dog.
Millie was Tom’s first indoor dog that was truly his own. I wouldn’t let him get away with letting me do all the exercising, though she went along on Gayle and my walks. First thing each morning when Tom went down the long driveway to get the newspaper, he was to take Millie on a leash. If Millie was sitting by anyone in the living room, it was to be Tom. Though I was equally responsible for house training--our training manual for bringing up Gayle being a big help--we raised this dog together. In looking back at the journals, I realized how alone I was at the job of bring up a Guiding Eyes Puppy, and how responsible I was for anything she inadvertently chewed or clumsily broke. I took a lot of crap, and I wasn’t going to let that be my responsibility with Millie. I even would get to say what I’d heard so often when Gayle was a pup, “Look what YOUR dog did!” It’s tough to bring up a pup. Every time I do from back when until now, I say, “Never again.” However, Millie was a gentle and lovable pup, making her puppy-hood more pleasurable than not.
Best of all, Gayle had a companion to play with, and she gladly shared her games with tennis balls and both could chew on the rawhide bones without fighting over them. When they got restless in the evening while Tom and I watched TV, we invented the game, “Hide the Bones!” They would patiently await with anticipation in the bedroom while we took fragments of Milk Bones, and hid them all around the living room and kitchen. Every place we could think to where they could track them down with their great sense of smell we’d put a fragment. Then we’d release them to find the bones. Somehow they never tired of that game… duh! Anything that involved a bone--meaning a dog treat--they would do. I can understand why dogs are so trainable, however, there’s a screw missing in my mind when it comes to dog training, as I always let them manipulate me instead. I never liked being strict with children or animals, and if I could curb their bad manners in a loving way, and as long as they didn’t do anything dangerous, I kept either on a pretty loose leash sort to speak.
To keep my grandchildren up on what was going on, I added to their photo story collection a book, Gayle’s Companion, and how she was lonely and everyone and everything had a companion in life except her until there was Millie.
posted by Cranberry Jo @ 4/18/2008 09:32:00 PM
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