Since Life's a Beach, I have to post a beach picture of the day!
If you want a little tale of "My Dog Freckles", kind of a demented 'kids and dogs gone wild' version of "My Dog Skip", continue on down the page.
My Mom and Her Dog Fritzie
Anyway, I was pre-K and don't remember the exact circumstances, but one day my brother just came home with a puppy. A black/white/black-white spotted short-haired pooch. Somehow he was allowed to keep it. I'm guessing my dad gave permission over the protests of my mom. My brother and I quickly named the puppy Freckles. We won the battle, BUT -- my mom never allowed the dog into her heart. AND -- it was rarely allowed into her house.
In other words, Freckles was an outdoor dog. Long story short -- Freckles turned into kind of a slightly domesticated version of a mean junkyard dog. Freckles viewed his territory as blocks in every direction and fought to defend it. He became the scourge of the neighborhood. Freckles learned to drag home almost anything he could get his mouth around. Newspapers, milk deliveries, neighbor's shoes, or anything else that had been left outdoors. The doorbell would ring and an angry neighbor would be standing on the front porch with the latest complaint about Freckles. My mom often tried to return Freckles' stash if she could figure out who was missing items, but most mornings Freckles left a collection of flotsam out by the back doorstep. The back stoop became the neighborhood lost and found. Tired of apologizing, my mom would snap Freckles to a staked chain in the backyard again. But never for very long, because my brother or I would set him free.
The war intensified between Freckles and my mom. To her horror, when she hosted her weekly bridge club at the house, one woman finally managed to get to the door and report that Freckles had taken charge of valet parking and with growling and gnashing of teeth, was refusing to let the 'ladies of the club' out of their cars on the driveway.
My brother and I, having bonded with Freckles, loved to see him have fun and wreak havoc. Every few days, a short little man who limped along with a cane would make the trek up Fourth Street to the IGA (a block up the street from our house). Freckles, chained to the stake, would run back and forth at the end of the leash letting the poor man, across the street on the sidewalk, know that he was definitely violating Freckles' home territory. My brother, being half-devil and wanting to support Freckles in his mischief, would unsnap Freckles from his tether and yell, "Heeere comes FRECKLES!" The man would begin hobbling at a partial run as fast as he could flee down the sidewalk away from our house. Usually my brother would call Freckles back before he got at the man.
As a responsible adult now with a dog that I dearly love and treat as my Princess (Saby the Wonder Dog), I still feel a lot of guilt over the fate of Freckles and our childhood part in the whole episode. Freckles was the perfect example of a dog gone bad because of the ignorance of its owners, but he was our Freckles, if only for a short time.
P.S. I've hunted high and low this morning through all the black and whites in the house and cannot find the one picture I had of Freckles. I think I gave the picture to my brother several years ago on his birthday as a memento of childhood. Now I'm going to have to sift through all the family pictures when I'm home next time to see if I can find another. But until then, a close facsimile will have to do.
5 comments:
Beck, we had a similar dog in my neighborhood when I was growing up. Rebel - an appropriate name. Everyone was terrified of him. I'm not sure what happened to him. Sorry about Freckles. How sad!
Beck...Freckles looks like a larger version of the Little Rascals dog.
We had a dog growing up, Cassie, who for some reason, thought her squeek toy was her baby. She laid on it like a baby. My brother would torment her by taking the baby. If Cassie were laying on my bed and my brother tried to pass my bedroom threshold she would leap off the bed and go after him with teeth showing. He would have to run to his bedroom and shut his door before she caught those teeth anywhere on his body she could find.
I still have Cassie's squeek toy in my momento box.
Vee, Freckles was definitely a Rebel! We also had a small collie named Tippy. My grandfather got him for us after Freckles died, but my mother refused to let him live at our house. So Tippy lived with my grandparents and we visited. Unfortunately, they lived on the highway and he got ran over. Brenda, I love the story about Cassie and your brother! Ha!
Well, truth mimicking fiction. I love to read these stories! I am thinking of making a separate blog for Lora, the life of a Mexican dog with a Gringa master. Anyway, I wish my brother was closer in age, because I think he would have made a great accomplice for Kim and her body double, the first Lora. Instead, he became a cat person. Good we all found Blogspot and you are a clickable Favorite now!
Older brothers!!Can be a real pain!
Our dogs were black cockers.The oldest of the two"Snopper"went everywhere I did.Since we lived in the country he would walk me to the bus-stop every morning(1/4mile)
and be waiting for me every evening.He lived to a ripe old age of 16. Thanks for bringing back old memories.
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