Dogs I have known

My paternal and maternal ancestry were as chalk from cheese.  My mother's people were reasonably normal English folk - afternoon tea with sandwiches type and no pets.  My father's sister (his only sibling) lived with his parents together with (in my childhood days) five dogs and cats without number.  A small window was left permanently open in the kitchen for ingress and egress of cats.  These cats possibly had identities but I never knew them by name.  They had rights above us children - totally free range of the kitchen - and their hairs were an accepted part of the cuisine.  This and other quirks of my father's folk used to drive my mother to distraction, to tears.  For us children we kind of accepted it as the status quo, as unchallengeable - but I hated going to stay with my grandparents.  To this day I have this every increasing foreboding as I drive closer to their hometown in Essex.

But the subject of this post is Dogs.  The mother of all the dogs was Karis.  Karis is greek for "grace".  My paternal grandfather 'Ginty' was the most normal person in this house.  Amongst other things he played the organ in church, played the violin at home (rather poorly), had numerous reel-to-reel tape recorders including a very desirable (in those days) Ferrograph machine, and studied greek, hebrew and eschatology.  That will give you some idea of the other members of the household.  Of the three, Ginty was the only one that showed a smidgen of affection for me.  Otherwise us children (my sister and I) felt as if we were little more than a nuisance there.  Perhaps I am misjudging them, I can only say what I felt like.

Anyway, the Dogs.  Karis was the most good natured.  She had black, brown and white markings.  As for the TYPE of dog, I frankly have no idea - some distant mongrel relation of a terrier I would think.  Then there was Smokey.  And three others...  The others were not friendly, not clean, not nice and IMHO do not deserve to be remembered.

Every other Christmas the grandparents and aunt AND DOGS would visit us.  My poor mother.

My own parents, or should I say my father, continued the dog tradition, but generally only one at a time and definitely no cats.  There was once a goldfish or two - they might get mentioned in a later post.  The first dog they had was Tinker Bell, doubtless a relation of Karis who, I think I said, was "mother of all".  What relation I cannot say.

The picture is black and white (they were in those days) but actually the markings either side of her face were brown and her hair was short, smooth and clean.  Tinker Bell was a nice dog and wholly deserving of her namesake.  But I was very young then and I remember little more about her.

Tinker Bell gave birth to Chum who had a rougher coat and no brown colouring.

I use a picture of myself with Chum on this wall as an avatar, but to include it here would be giving my identity away just too easily.  Chum was also a decent sort.

Chum in turn gave birth to Patch, so named for the patch over her eye.  Yes I know it could be argued that Chum had two patches.  In fact she had only one and the other dog here is Patch's progeny.

Patch was also a sensible dog.  Her progeny Pixie was anything but sensible, but she was adorable, the most adorable of dogs.  Pixie started life inside the womb in Cornwall, hence the name.  We never found out who the father was, but then you will notice that I have said very little about the fathers of any of the dogs mentioned.

Pixie was a little strange from birth - let's just say that she did different things.  Like running off and getting knocked down by a car, which bent her tail permanently.  But she was adorable.  If ever I loved a dog I love Pixie.  So here is another picture in her honour.

I only wish our photography skills were better in those days.

I then left home, got myself a h'education, and found myself a wife.  We settled down in London suburbia and decided we had no need for a dog.  We had each other after all, and that was expensive enough without having to find money to feed a third mouth.

So it wasn't until I moved to my present location that I met Meg.  Meg, otherwise referred to as "the dog" in previous posts (another attempt to protect my anonymity), actually belongs to a friend who is currently at college in the USA of all places, so I help to exercise her.

Meg is sagacious (look at her eyes).  Like her master she does not like fruitcake.  Unlike her master she loves joining me for (bare foot) running.  She is a good friend - listens to my complaints without comment.  She loves to have her tummy rubbed.  She likes custard-creams.  In fact she is as good a dog was one could hope for.  More sensible but not quite as adorable as Pixie.