The Dogs

Because I love a good game or contest, and because y'all are the judges, I'm entering my own contest. The deadline is this Thursday, so get your stories written and either send me the link, or email me your story! Voting begins Friday.

The story of the Dogs.

Growing up in the late '50's, early '60's, child of a Catholic mother, I didn't learn much about the birds and bees at home. My quiet mother was always either in bed with a headache or a pregnancy, leaving me to learn about life my own way. Being the oldest of eight kids, I felt responsible for my siblings, responsible to teach them the ways of the world. In an age when television was still clean and adults still civil, figuring out the mechanics of baby making was quite the challenge.

My education began the day dad brought home the dogs. Dad was in sales, so he traveled a lot, met a lot of people. He was always bringing home little trinkets for us kids, telling us stories about the people who gave them to him. For instance, the pet rock he gave my youngest sister came from a genuine hippie dad met at a rest stop near Albuquerque. As far as I know, Mary Jean still has that old rock somewhere; it's probably staring at her kids from some shelf.

But the gifts which stand out in my mind are the dogs. I must have been about eleven when dad came home with two gorgeous Scottish terriers, a male and female breeding pair. They were full grown, about two years old, and dad said that one of his customers was having to move and couldn't keep them, did he know of someone who'd like a couple of well-behaved dogs? Dad thought they'd be perfect for us kids, so he brought them home.

Eleven must be a time of bounteous curiosity, because I had scads of questions mom just couldn't answer. Anatomical questions. Biological questions. Things I was also too embarrassed to ask. And here - by some providence - was the answer to at least half of my questions. Better than a trip to the zoo to watch the monkeys and lions in action, I had two dogs in my very own home, to observe and learn at close range. How fortuitous!

I think the photo explains everything.

Until I write again ...

Flea