I just uploaded to Flickr a number of photos my mother gave my older brother years ago. His wife lovingly put them in chronological order in a photo album and stashed them away until this past weekend she remembered them upon reading some of this blog. What a treasure trove! There are a number of clues in these photos to questions I have had, and having some dated photos really helps putting things in order.
Take this photo, for instance (this might be me and John rather than David and John as its labeled, but no matter). Rusty was our first dog. He was with us only a short time before he was hit by a car (how long, I've no idea, but it was short). Despite having no memory spending any amount of time with this little puppy, the loss of him remains the single most painful memory of my childhood. I clearly remember sitting in front of his dog house, sobbing, for long periods. I still tear up at the thought of him. How is that? I don't remember pining away for a dog; I don't remember actually getting him - did mom and dad select him and bring him home to surprise us? I don't recall being surprised, or the first moment of seeing him. I don't remember even playing with him, yet 37 years later, the memory of his loss brings me to tears. Hmmmm.
Not long after, we got two other puppies: Bear and Lady, brother and sister mutts, part German Shepherd (which Lady favored) and part Lab (which Bear favored). I would love to find some photos of these dogs - this should be easy where Lady is concerned since she stayed with us for the rest of my stay in Orlando (a future post will need to be devoted to Lady - companion extraordinare). Bear, however, may be more difficult as he was not with us for long (again, I don't know how long, maybe a year - anyone know?). Bear became somewhat volatile, growling at us, and generally getting dangerous. In hindsight, I feel lucky things didn't turn out worse: I remember being in the back yard (they stayed outside in the fenced back yard) when I saw Bear approach me with his head low and a look on his face that I sensed was not very kind. I was standing near the door to the garage and just as I stepped toward the door, he leapt right at me, his open mouth and teeth hitting my face. I was able to slip inside and close the door and felt okay, just a bit shaken. I felt a bit like I had been slapped, otherwise I was fine. I walked into the kitchen a minute later, and what Mom saw was way worse than I remember feeling: a gash in your cheek, it turns out, can emit profuse amounts of blood. Not long after, I remember returning home from school finding only Lady in the yard. I asked, "Where's Bear?", and the answer was something about his having been taken "out to the country" or something like that. I don't remember being sad about that, nor do I remember being glad about it. I don't remember discussing it as a family (though not discussing anything would be the norm for most all issues), and I've not spent much time thinking about Bear since. Still, for my brothers and I, the phrase "Bear and Lady" goes together like "milk and cookies" and will, with Rusty, forever be a part of the lore of our past.
Take this photo, for instance (this might be me and John rather than David and John as its labeled, but no matter). Rusty was our first dog. He was with us only a short time before he was hit by a car (how long, I've no idea, but it was short). Despite having no memory spending any amount of time with this little puppy, the loss of him remains the single most painful memory of my childhood. I clearly remember sitting in front of his dog house, sobbing, for long periods. I still tear up at the thought of him. How is that? I don't remember pining away for a dog; I don't remember actually getting him - did mom and dad select him and bring him home to surprise us? I don't recall being surprised, or the first moment of seeing him. I don't remember even playing with him, yet 37 years later, the memory of his loss brings me to tears. Hmmmm.
Not long after, we got two other puppies: Bear and Lady, brother and sister mutts, part German Shepherd (which Lady favored) and part Lab (which Bear favored). I would love to find some photos of these dogs - this should be easy where Lady is concerned since she stayed with us for the rest of my stay in Orlando (a future post will need to be devoted to Lady - companion extraordinare). Bear, however, may be more difficult as he was not with us for long (again, I don't know how long, maybe a year - anyone know?). Bear became somewhat volatile, growling at us, and generally getting dangerous. In hindsight, I feel lucky things didn't turn out worse: I remember being in the back yard (they stayed outside in the fenced back yard) when I saw Bear approach me with his head low and a look on his face that I sensed was not very kind. I was standing near the door to the garage and just as I stepped toward the door, he leapt right at me, his open mouth and teeth hitting my face. I was able to slip inside and close the door and felt okay, just a bit shaken. I felt a bit like I had been slapped, otherwise I was fine. I walked into the kitchen a minute later, and what Mom saw was way worse than I remember feeling: a gash in your cheek, it turns out, can emit profuse amounts of blood. Not long after, I remember returning home from school finding only Lady in the yard. I asked, "Where's Bear?", and the answer was something about his having been taken "out to the country" or something like that. I don't remember being sad about that, nor do I remember being glad about it. I don't remember discussing it as a family (though not discussing anything would be the norm for most all issues), and I've not spent much time thinking about Bear since. Still, for my brothers and I, the phrase "Bear and Lady" goes together like "milk and cookies" and will, with Rusty, forever be a part of the lore of our past.
Comments
I liked Bear. I remember going to Richmond to stay with Aunt Liz and Uncle Dave for a while during that summer. No one told me that Bear had been taken away until returning from the trip. I still have a couple of small scars, though, when he and I were playing in the yard one day, and he bit me by accident. I don't remember bear being aggresive to you or the twins, though. And what's this about family meetings being the norm?? I don't remember any. Exception being when dad was blubbering about mom finally telling him to get his act together before the divorce.