Column Gone to the Dogs


No doubt about it.  It’s just plain a wonderful day to be inside.  Even going through my “in” basket is a great thing (so far).  No appointments, hopefully no visitors and only one telephone call so far.  I’m getting my rest from that whirlwind trip down to SC to pick up my Husband’s pup which he has named officially “Dirty Harryit” (Harriet, for short).  She wants you to make her day and she is smarter than a whip.  She sleeps under his chin.

As I’ve been moving my collector and antique books out to the barn (unless they involve repair, cleaning, etc) I’ve tried to read each one so that perhaps I can learn something.  At the moment I’m reading a huge one on Frederik Carder.  Glass is not one of my favorite items because I didn’t grow up with someone who found it interesting and I find them so hard to identify but these books are clearing up a few things for me.  I can at least identify what type of glass it is and am becoming more familiar with glass terms.  There is a glass seminar coming up in March (I believe) at the Corning Glass Works that I would be interested in attending.  Especially since this is where Carder spent most of his inventive time with glass colors.

Growing up with something makes such a great deal of difference.  All I wanted to do was to be around animals.  I wanted a dog and a horse so badly that it hurt.  We did have a cat but when my father developed allergies my Mother just shut it out and hoped it would go away.  Not so.  The cat and I would cry from both sides of the glass to each other.  When he disappeared, I found out later that he has died under the neighbor’s porch.  I was allowed turtles and crayfish that I caught in the creek though.  One was missing his arm and I promptly named him Captain Cook.  But, of course, taking them from nature, they would always die.  One time when we were at our camp in the Adirondacks I caught a handful of those teeny-weeny frogs, put them in the ashtray for the 2.5 hour drive back home, opened it up and they were dead.  Tears again.  While my Dad was remodeling our house I got a baby wild bunny.  I let it loose in my room but the duct work to the furnace was not there so it went into the hole and fell down into the furnace.  My Dad took the furnace apart because I was crying so hard but the Bunny was too injured to save.

My neighbors had a litter of beagle puppies which whelped in their cellar and they gave one to me.  I named him Freckles but they changed it to “Pete”.  When he got Distemper another neighbor (Miss Porter) noticed he was caughing so she took us into the Vets.  The Doctor said he would probably die unless I got him to eat and drink so after school I would go to the grocery store with my allowance and bring ground beef home for him.  He ate, lived and years later my Mother let him come inside our house.  I bought a box of puppies for 25 cents once at an auction but my Mother made me take them back too.  Believe it or not, the Auctioneer gave me my money back.  Probably because I was crying so hard.  There was a horse training facility across the road and for some reason, my Mother let my older sister go over but I had orders not to get close to a horse.  I snuck over there and paid the trainer 10 cents to be able to sit on Flowerbasket between her lessons.  Had I been able to learn how to ride I would not have had any trouble when I was in my 40’s and finally bought one for myself.  Unfortunately the first one chased me out of the pen and the second one (a mustang) threw me over her head about 6 times.  I never did completely get my balance because I was so afraid of being dumped.  Of course the horse felt my nervousness and acted accordingly.   Well, I went through a sting of them, finding one very old swayback Arabian that was wonderful and that I rode for about three years but he was so old that I donated him to a place that used him as a therapy horse.  My last is over to my daughters getting what he deserves because he acted like a terrier and I’m done with them.  I love them, I love to watch them and I’m jealous of all the people who ride them without being afraid of being dumped.  So, you see, I really do think that had I have been allowed to ride when I was young that I would have had no fear and would be an accomplished rider now.

When I was in my 30’s I purchased an Australian Terrier (hence the Aussie-Magic Vintiques name) who I took to obedience class.  Eventually I started taking her to conformation shows but I didn’t purchase her for conformation, was learning how to groom her and was up against so pretty savvy owner and professional handlers.  Finally, she and I got her title because she was in the ring following a friend of mine and the just bubbled with her head up and prancing along and got her conformation title :o)  She even got a Canadian Conformation and Obedience title and an AKC Championship.  She was the sweetest!  The first time she was shown she went to the judge and rolled over on her back for her tummy to be rubbed.  She did tricks, too.  All you had to say was Pillow! and she would run over so you could put your head on her.  When my father died it broke my heart to give her to my Mother for company but Lucy didn’t mind.  What she wanted to do most of all was to be fed and have her own person.  She had nice walks with Mom and I really think it helped my Mom a lot.

Well, it looks like this column went to the dogs!  Noodles!

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