Take the Puppy to Work Day

One June day thirty-three years ago, a woman brought a black and white puppy with floppy ears and the requisite beseeching brown eyes to my mother's business. The puppy was one of a sizeable litter, and her new owner was supposed to pick her up from the office, presumably for convenience's sake.

The owner-to-be never showed. I know this because my mother drove home that warm, sunny day with said puppy sprawled in her lap.

To this day, I do not know what possessed my mom (who has never struck me, neither before nor since, as a random animal lover) to take the doglet home. Perhaps it was a wag of a tail or the cock of an ear...or a recognition of the fact that back then, my sister and I had hopes for a pet (I recall my sister wanting a horse, though). Maybe Mom will comment below and explain what captured her, what pushed her decision.  At the time, what I know is that we were simply beside ourselves with excitement.

Granted, soon thereafter, in addition to all that was wonderful about Freckles, she became a nuisance and pain in the neck. She shed. She ate not only my homework, but my entire Science folder. She pished on our beds. She barked through the night, and jumped on visitors (we figured she'd be friendly to burglars, however). She wrestled the mail from the mailman's hand as he dropped it through the slot (yes, the bills often had chunks torn out). She ate most of a lettuce souffle from its casserole dish, with her "elbows" perched on the dining room table and her nose in the food. Also half a carved roast beef. And she needed to be walked constantly.

Part Cocker Spaniel, part Wire-haired Terrier, Freckles was quick, and alert, and a hunter by nature. She brought us offerings of fish from the lake and birds from the...air? At least once, when we girls were ice skating for hours, Mom sent her outside to find us, skittering across the ice, ears perked, with a note attached to her collar via twist-tie, inviting us in for hot cocoa. Freckles was frisky and energetic and would race herself down the long hallway and turn around and race back. She'd play catch with herself when we pushed her away - and she'd catch the ball she'd tossed in the air. Of course, she'd also nose the ball over the landing of a split-level house and tumble down two sets of stairs to discover that gravity - always - beat her to the punch. But she'd pick up the ball, trot upstairs, and try again. She might have been insane for expecting different results the next time, but we always thought the "dumb dog" was pretty smart to engineer these games (and exercise) all by herself.

At the end of her life, she was sadly pathetic...losing the strength of her legs necessary to engage in her lively pursuits of choice. She dozed curled up in a comfy dog bed, perking up when the family was present. With the historical dog-walkers out of the house, my father carried her outside gently to do her business. And eventually, kidney disease brought her to her end. We cried.

All this was a long time ago...but yesterday, May 3, would have been Freckles' 33rd birthday, if dogs lived that long. Which brings me to consider the actions of my never-impulsive mother, when she chose to bring home that hapless puppy, changing the demographics and actions and responsibilities and perhaps even personalities of our family for 15 years.

With no digital images from then, I did a quick search to find a semblance....(hey, family, if you have any photos of Freckles converted to digital, send 'em along so I can post)

This dog is the product of a Cocker Spaniel and a Wire-haired Terrier, and reminds me of Freckles' alertness  (http://www.i5net.net/~treatmemorial/ )
But her coloring....

...was more like the dog above, right. Freckles had slightly floppier ears (http://www.kilkennyspca.ie/ ).