My childhood was full of dogs. English Cockers and Irish Setters. At one point there were 10 dogs in a kennel in the back of our yard under mock-orange trees. Every day I had to take the dreaded pooper-scooper and gather all that poop and dump it in a metal trashcan. My sister must have helped, but all my memories of being out there are of being alone. This was in Oklahoma, I was in elementary school, possibly 5th grade. I was going through a patriotic-song phase. My favorite was The Grand Ol' Flag. I'm so not making this up at all. I would go out there and sing with all the power my skinny little body could muster. I don't even recall playing with the dogs, just singing. Then there was that one time in winter when I stuck my tongue on one of the posts of the metal fence. I had been warned not to do this, but when do I ever listen? I must experience to believe. I lost so many taste buds that day, and never said a word to anyone. I've always had a strong sense of shame, and knew better when to out myself for doing something totally stupid.
I have no idea what happened to all those dogs. My parents showed them--literally. They would spend all this money on getting dogs and grooming them and keeping them happy, so they'd be nice pretty dogs in the ring. Our hallways were lined with ribbons and pictures of the dogs. Sometimes I can go for days without remembering this. It still kind of horrifies me. It is so damn odd. However, those fucking dogs were awesome. They were such a comfort. The Irish Setters were big and let me sleep on them. I miss those dogs.
When we moved to Texas in 1987, we lost two of our dogs in quick succession. One of them I was blamed for, and it still pains me to this day. I know it isn't my fault, but it is so hard not to internalize a beloved pet's death. I don't think I want to write about it right now. It is too hard. I only brought all this up because I was watching this dumb girlie movie and there was an Irish Setter on it. Such beautiful loving dogs. I miss you guys.
In other news, I discovered that Twit thinks her IQ is 146. Go ahead and laugh. It's really all one can do. There is nothing better than having access to her hard drive. 146! Oh my god, what a douchelord.
1 comment:
It is almost frightening how much we have in common. We also had dogs in runs growing up. My dad trained labrador retrievers for dog trials. I also had to clean the runs, but as a punishment, mostly.
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