 - Last login: 5 hours agoKitakami
- Irene Onyu is a 52 year old woman from Texas, USA.
- Likes 3,513 pages, 80 videos, 702 photos • 135 fans • Received 49 reviews
- Member since Jul 30, 2007
I believe we are on an irreversible trend toward more freedom and democracy - but that could change.
Dan Quayle, 5/22/89
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The Four Musketeers: The Tale of the Dog
When I was still a young mom, my husband's dog-who was a fence climber-got loose one day and was ran down. He had loved that dog, an Irish setter, and I could see that he missed her. So, after a few weeks has passed, I suggested we go to the ASPCA shelter and pick another. At first he didn't want to, but between me and the kids we talked him around.
We never made it that far. When we stopped by Northline Mall where his mom worked, another rescue group (CAP) had set up in the parking lot. They must have had a couple of hundred dogs and cats of every description, but we fell in love with one right away. She was-or looked like-a setter/dachshund mix, with the head shape and curly red coat of a setter and a dachshund's body. Beautiful! That was Cinnamon.
Skip a few years...we were all out on a Saturday and my husband needed a haircut, so we stopped by the local barber shop and he went in. It was filling up fast, so the kids and I decided to take a little walk. Wouldn't you know it, somebody had set up outside the convenience store right next door with a litter of just-weaned puppies! My daughter, who was ten, made a beeline for them. She picked up one, a solid white pup with the curliest tail I had ever seen on a dog, and I knew what was coming next. I told her she had to ask her daddy, so off she went, lugging a dog about 1/3 her own size.
I opened the barber shop door for her (she had both hands over-full) and she stood there in the door looking at her father. She said in her best baby-girl voice "Daddy? Can I have a puppy?" Every man in the place turned to look at my husband as if to say 'you ain't gonna tell that baby no are you, you SOB?' All he could do was mumble the usual about taking care of her and that was that. So Tweedledee became a member of the family. She turned out to be the smartest dog we ever had. Never barked at other dogs, but she would raise pure hell if somebody tried to come into the yard.
Now jump a year or so. One of my son's friends was moving, and his parents told him he couldn't take the dog. Now my son had never really taken to the dogs we had, but he loved that pup, so after the standard speech about responsibility, Hairball became the latest member of the family. She had such long hair and such short little legs it looked like she was floating on air.
My husband was the one that named our pack the Three Musketeers, and vowed no more dogs. Don't even ask! So of course he was the one to bring home the last member of the pack. It happened while he was out hunting in the National Forest. He had left the window open on the car and when he got back he was greeted by what sounded like a Rottweiler inside. He worked his way up to the car and carefully looked inside. There was the most bedraggled looking half-grown dog ever, guarding his new home! My husband didn't have the heart to turn him out, so...
I named him Muttley, which the kids changed to Muttley Crüe. He grew into a huge dog with thick, curly black fur. There was never a salesman born who dared to open our gate with him there.
Over the years my dear friends have slipped away from me one by one. Yesterday, the last one passed peacefully, an old lady who I think missed her friends. I hope she is now joined with them once again, romping and yipping, in perfect health...forever.
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