Dog days

I have many fond memories of my grandparents. When I was growing up, every Sunday, my family would make the trip to their house, and spend a couple hours with my dad’s parents. There were two apple trees in the backyard that were perfect for climbing. In the summer, the apples were sweet and delicious, and could not be much fresher than right off the tree. My aunt and uncle lived up the street. They had eleven kids, so there was always lots of activity around my grandparent’s house.

Although there were a lot of good times and memories made at my grandparents, there was one thing that was not so pleasant. Pap and Mamam had a white, porcelain collie dog that always sat in the corner of their living room. It was just a little nick knack, about five inches high and seven inches long. This dog was a gift from their daughter, who had passed away. From the time I was a toddler, I had a fascination with that collie.

My mother tells me that from the time I was about three years old, I could not keep my hands off of it. Every visit, I would make my way over to figurine and pick it up. This was against my dad’s rules. I was not allowed to touch the collie. The dog would be taken away from me, and a scolding always followed. Apparently, this always caused tension when my family visited.

My behavior went on for years. I ‘m not sure why the collie was not put away somewhere when I visited, but it was not. As I grew older, elementary school age, my dad would get more upset when I would go after my prize. He resorted to putting me in the car until it was time to go home. I remember my cousins, and siblings, playing outside while I sat in the car. They would point and laugh, teasing me about my problem with the collie.

I eventually grew out my fetus with that dog, and my grandparents passed away. My family never knew what happened to the collie, but from time to time, during family gatherings, stories would be told about the troubles that knick knack caused.

About five years ago, another of my aunts passed away, and while going through her belongings, my cousin discovered the long lost collie. Shortly after that discovery, the statue was given to it’s rightful owner, me.

These days, that white, porcelain collie holds a prominent position on top of a bookshelf in the dining room of my home. My children are grown and have no interest in it, but I wonder, if grandchildren are in my future, what will happen when they come to visit. To be safe, I’ll keep the collie on the bookshelf.