Our Missy's Beginning

     I was probably about 13 when our dog Tammy passed on. Of course my dad insisted, 'No more dogs'. We did heed his words for awhile, but a rather short 'while'. However, a new dog this time wasn't my doing; it was my mom's.
     Oh I wasn't totally innocent in the plotting and neither was my brother. You see, Mom heard that a friend's dog had a litter of puppies, and one afternoon Mom suggested to my brother and I that we take a drive to Helen's house, to 'just look' at a puppy. Mom didn't have a driver's license, but my brother did. So Ron drove, and I was in the car, so I guess you could say we were then accomplices.

     'Just look', hah! We all knew we would be coming home with a new puppy. Did Dad know? By the look on his face when he got home and he saw the three of us gathered around a puppy, I'd say no.
     We now had a new addition to our family, a Springer beagle mix that we named Missy. Dad laid some ground rules: She was not allowed beyond the kitchen; "No sneaking her into your room at night, Darlene"; and being I was the youngest, I got the 'poop detail'.
     Missy was an extremely naughty puppy. If there was any mischief to be found, believe me she would be in the midst of it.
     Dad and my grandfather built our house, and Dad was extremely proud of their work. A lot of work went into the making the baseboard molding; at each corner the wood curved outward. Apparently in Missy's mind these corners would be a perfect teething spot. 
     Mom, Ron, and I would frantically work to patch the chewed corners, hoping that Dad would never notice. Duh, what were we thinking; as if Dad wouldn't notice that corners were suddenly gone on his handcrafted molding. After a week of our handy work, Dad finally noticed. He may have mumbled a weak threat about giving the dog back, but soon Dad quietly went about doing his own repair work. Yes, the woodwork was scarred forever, but thankfully Missy was here to stay.
     Remember Dad's first rule: Missy was not allowed beyond the kitchen. Funny thing, Dad broke his own rule one evening and I caught him at it. From that night on, Missy was my bedtime companion.
     As for my job of being the 'poop scooper', I was very diligent of my duties in the beginning. But as time went by my diligence waned, and I became quite forgetful about my duties.
     On Dad's weekly mowing day, when I heard an angry shout summoning me to the back yard, I suddenly remembered what I had forgotten to do. I hurried out the door, grabbed my shovel and bucket, and quickly tended to my task. I made a point to stay out of Dad's path as he angrily tried to wipe something off from the bottom of his shoe.
     As I got a bit older, the lawn mowing became my new task. The first time out I learned firsthand the importance of doing the 'pooper scooping' before the mowing.
     Missy has been gone for many years now, but definitely not forgotten. Remembering back to all her silly antics always brings a smile to my face. Having said that, I'm sure you can sense that there will be future postings about 'Our Missy'.

So long, I'll see you soon!