Happiness is a Warm Puppy (or Two)

I don't remember getting our first dog. I would have been 2 or 3 at the time, it was while we were living in the little house on Yulupa. Apparently Grandpa Skold decided it was time for us to have a dog and gave us a basset hound. I got to name him, the only dog name I knew - Snoopy! There's a great photo somewhere of him sprawled on his back in the chaise longue in the yard.

I remember when Grandpa decided we needed another dog (just not exactly when that was - I was probably in 4th or 5th grade.) We went down to Los Gatos to visit, and tied to a long rope, out back with Grandpa's German Shorthaired Retriever, was a beagle. I think he came with his name - Barney. I have no idea if my parents knew about either gift, but how do you tell your little girls that they can't have the dog their Grandpa just gave them?

Both dogs were outdoor dogs. The first morning we had both of them at home, they got into a fight and Snoopy tore open Barney's paw pad. He was in bandages and that horrible protective collar for far longer than he wanted to be. After that, when The Beagle was in trouble, he'd look at you with those bright brown eyes and raise his paw. "Remember, I was hurt! Don't be mad at me!" And then he'd blow it by switching paws. "Wait, was it this one?"

They used to chase each other around the back yard - or rather, Snoopy would chase The Beagle. Now, you picture a basset as a sleepy dog, maybe meandering from one good nap spot to another, right? Not this one! The Beagle would take off across the deck and launch himself off it into the sand box. And Snoopy would be right behind, ears flying! The chase would always end in the dog run. The Beagle would find himself trapped in the back, out of sight. We'd hear a yelp, then Snoopy would come trotting out. A little while later, The Beagle would slink out, and that would be the end of that.

The Beagle was something of an escape artist. After discovering two or three different ways to go under the fence, he then discovered a way to go over the fence. If he stood on the railing at the west end of the deck, he could leap from there, over the fence, and land on the top of the wood pile. From there, it was all downhill - literally, he always headed down the street. Dad finally nailed a piece of plywood to the top of the fence to prevent this.

Just because he couldn't go over didn't mean that Snoopy never got out. Someone would leave the gate unlatched and he'd be off and away too. And he was much harder to get home. The Beagle you could pick up and carry. But you couldn't carry the basset, and your back got sore bending over to hold onto his collar. Snoopy also held the record for distance. Mom got a call one afternoon from the volunteer fire department, a good 3 or 4 miles away. They'd found him standing on the median strip in the middle of Hwy 12!

Both dogs died peacefully in their sleep. Since then, Mom has had two cocker spaniels - the kind of dog she grew up with. I've had cats. Kai had crazy Siamese, and something large and furry and Northern - Husky or Malamute. Kelly has cats and a Great Dane, but they're looking for a basset hound now.