This Little Life Of Mine - Chapter 32 Laddie Thomas M Parsons

32. Laddie

We had a cat. Nikki had joined our little family in Grand Rapids when we lived in an on campus apartment where we were not allowed to have a dog. I don’t think they said anything about cats.

But now we lived in a parsonage, and we had no restrictions concerning pets. Linda wanted a dog. We always had a dog as I grew up. In Windsor we had Pal, the terrier that moved to Lincoln Park with us. In Lincoln Park we had Pierre, a neurotic French poodle who suffered from epilepsy, and, after he died, we had Charlie Brown, a neurotic French poodle who didn’t suffer from any particular disease except, perhaps, yappism.

My bride had always had pets as she grew up as well, only she had a much larger menagerie and a wider variety of animals than we did. She had several dogs. She also had two horses, a variety of rabbits, some of which became dinner for her family, and even an alligator which escaped and may still be living somewhere in subterranean Indianapolis living off whatever it finds flowing through the city’s sewer system.

So my animal-loving bride and I drove to the northern suburbs of Detroit to a large shopping center where there was a pet store and picked out a little West Highland White Terrier, a Westie, who was, well, what else, white except for his little black nose. I had to write a fairly substantial check to the store before they would allow us to bring the puppy home. We also had to buy a cage and bedding for him, and food, and dishes to serve his food in. And on it went.

The store gave us a certificate indicating that the puppy was a genuine West Highland White Terrier, a certificate which turned out to be meaningless. Oh, he definitely was a genuine West Highland White Terrier. No doubt about that. But he had no “blood lines” so he could not be registered or entered into competitions. He was just a Westie produced by a puppy mill.

But we liked him. He soon became part of our family. Linda gave him a fancy name, Cadwalader or something like that. But we just called him Laddie.

We soon learned that puppies produced by puppy mills can be sickly. Laddie was. He had several problems which soon showed up.

He had an intestinal problem which caused him to have diarrhea frequently. We had to take him to the vet for that. The doctor said he would outgrow it in time. He did.

Photo: Tom, Linda and Laddie in the parsonage in Flint, Michigan in 1972.

To view an index of all the chapters in this autobiography, please click here.
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
NEXT CHAPTER

He also had an itching problem; he would scratch to the point where he would make his skin bleed. We took him to the vet for that. Medication, time, and a paper cone suspended around his neck so he could not scratch his face took care of that problem.

But he was cute and we loved him and he got special treatment. Nikki, the cat, tolerated him, often ignored him as if he did not exist. Linda taught him to do tricks by showing him what she wanted him to do and rewarding him with a treat each time he did it correctly on his own. She got him to roll over, shake hands, sit up, play dead and bark on cue.

Laddie went on several trips with us. He became a well-traveled dog. One such trip took us to Lexington, Kentucky. This was Laddie’s first trip, the first time he was away from his usual yard that had the familiar odors dogs identify with. When we stopped in rest areas, we walked him in the designated areas. But the odors weren’t right, and he refused to do anything.

There we were, driving along in our new 1972 Plymouth Valiant with Laddie on the seat between us. Nikki, I believe, was staying with one of our families. Suddenly I noticed something unusual. Laddie who had not been able to do anything because of the not so familiar odors in the rest areas finally had no choice but to do his business, which he did in the front seat of our car. The joys of owning a pet.

ORDER OUR BOOKS FROM
AMAZON'S CREATE SPACE