SPOTS AND ALL MY DOGS

LEONARD W. LINDROS, JR.

ISBN (Print Edition): 978-1-54399-392-9

ISBN (eBook Edition): 978-1-54399-393-6

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FOREWORD

I have a deep love and respect for all animals but none higher than dogs. During my many years... I’m eighty...I have been blessed to have had my dog, my children’s dog, grand-dogs and a multitude of my neighbor’s dogs. They all had and have their own personalities, names and a love shared by family and myself. The only unfortunate thing about dogs is that their lives, with us, are far too short.

No matter whether they come to us as purebred puppies, rescue dogs or strays, they immediately become family and we will do anything within our power to make sure that they are safe and healthy...truly, not much different than any other member of our families.

The following chapters will take you into my world of dogs...during the time that I journeyed from a young boy to a young man …later, as a father and then as a grandparent...right up to the current.

Most of the names, I will always remember, some not, but all are etched into my heart forever. My childhood dog Spots and my children’s dog Niki. My grand-dogs: Cavan, Abbey, Lucy, Duke, Dixie, King and Jenni. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law’s dog Fritz, my niece and nephew-in-law’s dog Gunner and my other niece and nephew-in-law’s dog Sammy. My neighbor’s dogs: King, Sukie, Major, Barron, Kraut, Alexander, Charington, Little Dog, Daisy, Buddy, Tipper, Dozer and Shadow. There were several other local dogs that strayed on to the road-ways which I would just bring to their homes if I could find them. Somehow, I always did...with names that I either never knew or the few that I may have forgotten.

Obviously, the dog that was with me for thirteen years, I will always remember his antics best. That would be Spots!

CHAPTER I
SPOTS

In 1946 my parents purchased a beautiful piece of land, in Garrison, New York, overlooking the Hudson River. We all pitched in (mostly Dad!) to building a two-car garage that would become our weekend and summer home for the next nine years until the house, which we also built, was livable enough to be resided in. Basically, I was born in the Bronx and raised in Mount Vernon, New York from 1938 until I graduated from high school in 1956. The very day of graduation, we moved to Garrison.

It was in the fall of 1946 that we were offered, by friends of my parents, a brand-new puppy that had just been born. The puppy’s mother was a Dalmatian with small black and white spots which used to be referred to as “salt and pepper” in those days. The father was a Beagle which confused everyone about how they managed to get together. No matter what one might think, they did...producing beautiful puppies with long flappy ears and large black and white spots. Unlike Spots’s father, he had his mother’s long legs and the mix gave Spots a great disposition. The father, a great hunter with an excellent nose and the mother, a picturesque “fire-house dog.”

It was a no-brainer, for me, to naturally name my puppy SPOTS. He quickly grew to about the size of his mother and with those long legs was extremely fleet compared to his Beagle father. Spots had a loving temperament just like all Beagles do and could run fast enough and smart enough to out-run a rabbit. He had watched the rabbit for several days...knew where it came from and then traveled the hypotenuse route. Bingo! Rabbit caught.

My cousin Arthur was with me that very moment when Spots caught the rabbit. He actually remembered the event in more colorful terms than me. I would dare say that Arthur loved Spots just as much as I did. He showed it in so many ways. Spots felt the same love for Arthur and would demonstrate such upon Arthur’s weekend visits during the late 1940s and throughout the 1950s. Arthur and his family lived in Queens Village, Long Island but also owned property about 600 feet north of ours... spending most weekends here in Garrison. Both Arthur and his mother, Violet, would always bring “goodies” for Spots... and, he knew it. Spots could not control himself as he noticed them coming down our driveway... his happy cry was loudly expressed.

As a young lad, of seven, I sincerely yearned for a brother or sister but that was not to be...so, Spots became my brother and I let everyone know it. In this current day and age that might seem a little over the top but that was how it was seventy plus years ago. I loved that dog with all my heart and soul. We were tightly bonded from the very beginning...some thought it cute, some odd, but I didn’t care.

As an only child I obviously was the center of attention, which was sometimes okay and many times not that great...Spots got about the same amount of attention as I did, which was just dandy with me. Dogs are a whole lot smarter than some understand and, if given a great amount of attention, they will prove their cleverness...which, Spots did on an almost regular basis. Spots was a very proud dog just in the way that he carried and groomed himself. He was both a city-dog and a country-dog. He always looked forward to getting into our old 1936 Buick, on Friday evenings, to head to Garrison and then back into the car, on Sunday eve, to head to Mount Vernon. He, unlike some dogs, loved to ride in the car.

Early on, he let everyone know that he would only sit in the front passenger seat with Dad driving. If he was not sleeping, he would sit up with his back tightly against the back of the passenger seat...literally, with his front legs off of the seat. Yes, he appeared to be somewhat of a snob and that he was. No, it was not the smartest thing to have anyone sitting without a seat-belt, but there were no such things in those days...except, maybe, on the race-track. My mother and I were relegated to the back seat.

As a city-dog, Spots had many routines. Naturally, he would get walked...by me, in the very early morning as I had over a mile to walk to grade school and later, over a mile and a half to middle school and then, even further to high school. Trolley cars cost a nickel and a nickel was big in those days... therefore, you walked! Mom would walk him at some point in mid-day and/or when he would let you know that he had to go. From the time that he was a very young puppy he never made a mess in the house. No-no, as I mentioned, he was a very proud dog...in fact, I truly believe that he felt that he was more human than dog.

He did have his methods to let you know that he was not fooling around. He would start by entering the kitchen and lifting his leash off of the hook on the wall and then dropping it on the linoleum floor. The chain, which was fairly heavy, would certainly make enough noise to be heard throughout the apartment. In those days a leash was a heavy chain with a leather handle. For the most part, nothing fancy.

If, at that point, he felt that he was not getting enough attention, he would run down the hallway at full speed and jump with all fours hitting our apartment entrance door. By the time that we moved from Mount Vernon, he had actually made a crack in the door panel. Beyond this, and if need be, his last effort would be to go into the bathroom and make circling maneuvers to let everyone know that he was not kidding.

Upon putting his leash on and heading out the door, he would pull so hard that his nails would try to bite into the old style marble steps and landings of this old apartment house. His panting would become louder and louder...at times, it became difficult to hold onto the leash and he would pull the strap out of your hand and then down the four flights at full speed...waiting breathlessly at the apartment building entrance door.

You could tell from his exerted pants that he was in a big hurry. Upon hitting the concrete and slate sidewalks, he would literally drag me about a thousand feet, or so, to a very large empty lot where Pearl Street ended at First Street. Spots was also a very private individual and quite modest. As badly as he had to go, he would not do so unless you were looking the other way and certainly not in his direction. At this moment, he wanted his space.

Upon our return back to the apartment house, Spots did not just walk but would very proudly strut, as always. Yes, he was somewhat of a snob. Every person on our block knew Spots with a soft spot in their heart.

Spots was a very clean dog. Both his parents, Dalmatian and Beagle, were naturally short-haired, as was Spots. Sometimes he looked like a big cat by cleaning and grooming himself. We would only give him a bath every three or four months because it was not good for his beautiful shiny coat to over bathe him. In the city, we would put him in the bathtub...this was not his, nor our, favorite time...he just knew when that time was coming and would go behind his sofa of choice emitting a low growl. In the country, up in Garrison, I would bathe him from spring to fall on a very seldom basis as this tends to dry out the coat of a dog...in doing so, you were never sure as to who took the bath.

Spots had a very large open wicker bed with a nice thick mattress which he would sleep on from time to time...however, he preferred to sit with us on any and all upholstered sofas and wing chairs, of which we had several in the living room. In the beginning Dad would frown about such while Mom and I would let him snuggle up to us even though he was far too large for a lap-dog...however, our apartment landlord did not like to spend his money on oil which made our top-floor apartment quite chilly and Spots helped in keeping us warm. Eventually, Dad sort of gave in.

When we were out for the evening, we would lift all of the cushions up so that he could not be on them while we were away...what a laugh! When we got home, every cushion was back in place just to let us know that he enjoyed each and every one of them all that evening. This was sort of retribution for leaving him home alone. When we walked in, he would be behind one of the sofas growling with his tail wagging very hard against the wall and sofa. It was obviously a put-on which he seemed to enjoy. He knew that a scolding was coming. Mom would say “SPOTS! …. Shame on you.”

He just knew that mom was really only kidding in a way...but, he had to show his indignation and let everyone know that he did not appreciate being scolded or reprimanded. His favorite stunt was to come out from behind the sofa looking a little sheepish, go over to the end-table magazine rack and pull out the bottom magazine which would dump the entire contents on the floor. He would stand there almost with a smile on his face to hear mom say “NAUGHTY BOY!” With that out of the way, he would retire to his bed in the kitchen. This was a common routine.

Spots was always a happy dog until his bout with a “summer itch” came to be. A veterinarian’s office was not his favorite place to go and worse yet, what was prescribed, he did not appreciate. Some form of a sulfur salve and a cone collar. We cut up some of my old shirts putting his front legs into the arms and tied it off slightly past his chest hopefully keeping him from licking off the salve. He figured out how to break the cone collar and with his teeth and rear legs, he ripped each shirt to pieces. Thank God, fall came and went early that year. “Dinovite” came sixty years too late to be added to his food.