There has never been a time that I can remember when my family hasn't had dogs. The first one that I can remember was an old black dog name Poochy. I don't suppose I knew him long, he was gone by the time I was five or so, as far as I recall.
My first dog was Scruffy. He ran away with a couple of other dogs, including a beagle, when he was still a puppy. It made me sad. That is about all I recall on that. oh, and my family made fun of me for naming my dog Scruffy (come on, I was six!).
|Bertha and Ed|
Then along came Bertha. She didn't really belong to us, but she loved us anyways and came with us when we moved. But that is a story for another day (Thursday).
Joe Joe was my last dog, and my all-time favorite. Mom brought him home one day and said to me 'clean up the puke in the back of the suburban and he is yours'. So I did, and he became MY dog. He really didn't like car rides as a puppy, and got car sick a lot, something that was forcefully corrected when we made the big move from New York to Wisconsin, a 15 hour car ride. After that he loved to go for rides.
He died a few of years ago on July 5th, right after his favorite holiday. It broke my heart.