My First Dog

In the summer of 1965 Tippy came to live with me. He was part toy collie, part clydsdale. He was never a large animal, but he was strong. After I'd had him for a couple of months Dad had to put a calf halter on him so I could walk him. Otherwise I'd get drug all over the yard. By the fall of '65 he could pull my Radio Flyer...with me in it.

Here we are right after Mom and Dad gave him to me. I'm trying to keep him from eating my banana pop-sicle.

This is us about a month later. I'm giving him a ride in my Radio Flyer. A couple of months later the tables would be turned. You can tell he's grown. When he was a puppy, Mom said he looked like a little butterball.

Here we are in the spring of '66. Look at size of his feet! By this time it was impossible to win a wrestling match with him.

What a pooch. What a pal!

This Man's Best Friend

In reality my wife is my best friend, but don't tell our seven-year-old Retriever-Cocker Spaniel mix. Buddy would freak if he knew he came in second. Buddy is a pound pup. I got him seven years ago, come October. He's the best dog we've ever owned. Gentle, playful, attentive; he's always ready for a nap, a snack, or a walk. He sleeps at the foot of our bed...when he's not on the bed and he lives for table scraps--especially gravy. His only drawback is that he hates fireworks.

We named him Buddy because of his friendly disposition. And over the years, he's lived up to his name. But he also answers to other names as well.

There's 'Buddysarus-Rex, and 'the Budster.'

Then there's 'Mister Buddy,' and 'Buddyroo.'

Lastly there's 'Wondermutt,' and 'Superpooch.'

He's telling us that it's time for bed.