Shortly after we moved to the new house, my parents gave my sister a Scottish Terrier for her birthday. She named him Clancy. Like Pepsi before him, he also took off when he got out, but since he didn’t have an old house to run back to, he ran down the road to a neighbor’s house- ironically enough the grandmother of the ones who had earlier shot Pepsi.
She would feed him steak and other treats, and before long he stopped coming home altogether. Eventually, he officially became her dog. I guess that family was determined that we wouldn’t have any pets.
I have no idea how long Clancy lived or what happened to him. I don’t remember seeing him after he moved down the road, so he must not have lived too long.
I have never seen a photo of Clancy and as far as I know, none exist.
Later, I went to work for that same lady, cutting her yard and the field behind her house for $20 a pop. I remember riding the tractor and listening with one earpiece to a little red AM radio I’d won playing bingo at the beach. Stone Age iPod and all that.
One day I found that a cat had her kittens in a shed on that lady’s property. I told her I would find a home for them, but by the time I went back the next day, one of her other men had killed them.
I guess she ran hot and cold as far as pets go.
All of that notwithstanding, she was a generally nice lady. I liked her and was sad when she died, at a very old age.
Coming up next is Buck- the closest thing I have ever had to a brother.
As I mentioned the other day, I am really enjoying Doc’s series about his pets, so I’m going to do one too.
When I was born in 1960 my family had a white cat named Pepsi. I don’t remember him, but I have heard stories about him sleeping with me in my crib when I was a baby (so much for the stealing your breath thing). Maybe that’s part of the reason I have always liked cats.
My sister named Pepsi. She doesn’t remember how she came up with that name, but it’s a little ironic, since the south in general and my family in particular were loyal Coke drinkers.
When I was almost one, we moved to a new house a few miles away. Pepsi made the trip, but when he got loose, he would high tail it back to the old house and mom or dad would have to go fetch him.
Pepsi was later shot and killed by one of the members of a trouble-prone family that lived not too far from us. I didn’t know that until this past weekend when I asked my sister what happened to Pepsi.
I once walked down the steets of Bellaire, Texas with my shotgun looking for a dog that had earlier attacked my dog and scared my wife during a walk, but I can’t imagine shooting a dog or cat except in such an extreme circumstance. I don’t like people who are cruel to animals.
It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know about this until now.
I have vivid memories of the rest of my pets, which included dogs, cats, rabbits, ducks and a flying squirrel. More to come.
Amyloo suggests that we do an OPML directory, like this car roll. If I can figure out how to do that, I will.
Doc Searls is doing a series on the pets he has had in his life.
I think that is an really interesting idea, and even though he is only on pet number three, I have already noticed commonalities in our pet experiences- particularly the surreal experience of burying your first pet. We had a pet graveyard behind our house, where many dogs, cats, rabbits and ducks were buried. It was all good until I read Pet Cemetary. That book scared me in a big way- and I was in my 30’s when it came out.
I suspect that pet ownership and loss may be a universal experience that many of us share.
It’s good reading. I am going to read Doc’s series and then do something similar.
Pet Rolls- a good read and an interesting exercise.
Hey Doc- how about some photos to go along with the stories?