Mukilteo Musings

Beloved Puppies Part I

This article in today's Seattle PI by Barry Wong caught my attention because it featured a photo of a Golden Retriever but then after reading it, I laughed. People are serious about their dogs. "If you're homeless, jobless, or just unwanted in the Puget Sound region, you might want to be reincarnated as a wet-nosed, tail wagging, fun-loving canine..."

Evidently in Medina on Lake Washington where the richest people in the world live, dogs are not required to be leashed in their city park. I guess people have complained about dog poop and "'about dogs exiting the pond and spraying other visitors when they shake off or rub up against other visitors leaving mud on pants and shoes.'" Residents have applied for an ordinance change accompanied by thick briefs to City Hall to require dogs to be leashed. This completely cracked me up because my dog, Apolo, is able to accomplish 1. pooping 2. exiting water and shaking all over people and 3. rubbing mud on people all while still on a leash. So I think the fancy lawyers over there better work on their arguments.

I do understand the passion and love dog owners have for their pets. When I was born, my parents had a Springer Spaniel named Jack. I do not remember him but my English Grandma also had a Springer Spaniel named Jack that I remember fondly. Evidently, my English grandparents had Springer Spaniels going way back and they were always named Jack.

After all of the Jacks were gone, my Dad decided to break with family tradition by bringing a Golden Retriever puppy home when I was 7. He did a lot of reading and what convinced him was a book describing how Nazis, knowing the breed was intelligent, tried to train Goldens to do bad things. But they couldn't make them mean. We named this dog Laddie. He was my childhood companion and he lived to be 16! In fact, he died on America's 200th birthday, July 4, 1976 and at 23, I cried.

My parents had two more Goldens, Lonnie and Rufus. Lonnie was killed by a truck as a puppy but Rufus lived to be 14. After my Dad died and after Rufus died my Mom had a female named Sunny who also lived to be 14. All of these Goldens were dark golden red.

When Dave and I were first married, my Dad felt sorry for us living in a big city (Kansas City) so far from home. Without asking us, he sent Rufus's puppy, a dark little runt of the litter, to us on an airplane knowing I would not send him back. We named him Montana Gold and called him Monty; he was our first child and we loved him so much. He hiked with us in Colorado where we'd go to get our mountain fix, slept with us, went with us everywhere and moved to Seattle with us. The article in today's paper reminded me how I took Monty for his last swim in Lake Washington when he was old and gray-faced. He died at 12 after a good life, when my first human child, Lucas, was one. I've always believed he died of a broken heart because he had to share me with a screaming ugly (to him) little thing.

As a family, we had two more Goldens: Jedidiah Gold (Jed) and Jebidiah au Mont d'Or (Jeb). I continued the gold theme with their names. These two guys were Puget Sound Goldens and they were light, fluffy and bear-like; parents and relatives were show dog champions. Jed got sick with leukemia at age 8 right before we went to France to live. In a macabre sort of way, it worked out that he died before we had to leave him for four months--almost like he knew we were leaving him. But let me say, we were completely devastated; I actually put my children, ages 10 and 7 at the time, at risk by adopting the mean German Shepherd from next door in our little village in France just to have a dog around. The day we got back, jet lag and all, we went puppy shopping.

Next up, Part II, and just how did we end up with Apolo when we had Jeb? And WHY did we name him Apolo with one "L"? Stay tuned!