Then, when I was about twelve my Gramma and I went to visit my aunt and uncle. Uncle Kenny is Gramma's son after all. We drove for twelve or so hours and arrived at their house where I was delighted to discover a Basset Hound named Ginger.
Ginger was stubborn, but sweet as anything. She was papered and AKC registered (facts I knew nothing about, but my eyes filled with stars nonetheless). Her full name was "Gingerbread Shortcake." She was a glorious copper color with small patches of white on her chest and her toes. While she was lovely, she was also a typical hound type. If you didn't have food you were unworthy of her efforts.
It was also at my aunt and uncle's house that I learned about Penny.
Everyone's family has had a dog like this, or a story of one: The Dog With Perfect Manners. The Dog That Was Smarter Than Any Other, Including Some People. The Perfect Dog.
Penny, long since gone at the time, was The Perfect Dog, and there have been many stories told of her intelligence. My Gramma picked out a small brown mutt and gave it to Uncle Kenny and Aunt Lori early in their relationship. She got out once and after agonizing hours searching for her, my weary aunt and uncle returned to their apartment to find her sitting next to their door, giving them a look as if to say, "Oh, there you guys are. What took you so long?"
On the last afternoon of our visit, I remember standing at opposite ends of the room from Gramma. She was leaning down petting Ginger when she straightened up and looked me in the eye. She then said something I never expected to hear:
I came away from that visit with a renewed sense of love for all things dog and an invitation to come with my aunt and uncle on their cross-country trip next summer. Not to mention a cloud of bliss at the prospect of getting a dog!
Part One / Part Two / Part Three
Today I am grateful that the daffodils are starting, and crocuses have been up a week already.
Until next time,
No comments :
Post a Comment?