Going to the Dogs! Spotty.

I was raised in a home devoid of animals. Well, that’s not entirely true. My father kept an aquarium of tropical fish. I have no idea why. The only time those fish ever saw a human was when he fed them. They were kept in a basement, and hardly anyone ever went down there.

I never understood fish tanks. Those poor creatures are confined to a tiny space and just swim in circles. I have heard that fish tanks are soothing to people, but to me, they feel like claustrophobia. I particularly hate fish tanks in restaurants!

My father loved animals and would have had dogs, but my mother had some bad experiences in her childhood concerning pets, which she would never disclose, so therefore, no pets were allowed. As a small child, I resorted to stuffed animals to fill my bed.

Because of my mother's fear and dislike of dogs and cats, I, too, was afraid of them, especially loud barkers. With my hearing quirk, I just couldn’t stand the volume.

My husband was raised differently. He lived upstate NY and had many dogs at the same time. He loved dogs.

I tried once to bring a puppy home. A litter was born early in the camp season, and I fell in love with it. I brought the puppy home on the camp bus, but my parents promptly returned it.

Marriage brought with it the freedom to have a pet. I knew nothing about having a pet but thought my husband would be an expert.

Spotty! I saw a picture in the newspaper of this adorable spotted puppy. I had to have him! The first clue to this not being a good idea was driving home from the dog pound with him in the car. He did not stop barking. When we got home, I introduced him to his dish and his doggy bed and took him for a walk into this little park near our garden apartment. The only thing he liked was the walk. We tried to acclimate him to the car, the apartment and a routine. He wasn’t having any of it. When we tried to leave the apartment, we had to fight him off just to get out. In those days, the mail was delivered right to our door. There was a slot where the mail came through. Every piece of mail was chewed almost as quickly as the mailman could push it through the slot. In the car, he just barked. But in the moments when he was with us, he was fine. He would cuddle against my feet when I sat on the couch or sat in my lap. He got the idea of making outside, and I thought we were progressing.

We weren’t! It became apparent that if we weren’t constantly with him, he would chew whatever was handy, whether it was furniture, clothing or the rugs. I reached a point where I couldn’t take it. A man I knew, who owned a store on Main St, where I used to live, had several dogs that were so well trained. He said he would take Spotty, and I let him have the dog. About one week later, I got a call from someone about two blocks away. It was winter and a bitterly cold night. The woman said, my phone number was on the collar of this spotted dog. I realized Spotty had run away and was finding his way back to us. Doesn’t that just melt your heart?

We drove over and got him. It was the most excited greeting I ever got. He jumped right in the car and started barking incessantly. Nevertheless, I didn’t feel I could leave him again. Spotty came home, was with us, and moved with us when we left Queens and went to a rental in Port Washington, NY. He was fine for a while. My daughter was born, and once again, we moved. Finally, in our own home, everything seemed good. Spotty was OK with the baby until she started to crawl. Now Spotty thought he had competition. When she started to walk, it was all over; it was her or the dog! Obviously, the dog had to go. This time, he didn’t come back.