Today I would like to share a story about my little cocker spaniel named Bugs. We had pets all through our childhood, but I guess he was our favorite. We got him from one of our neighbors when we lived in the little block house and named him Bugs after seeing him eating bugs.
Cocker spaniels have long hair and when it snowed, Bugs would have huge snowballs attached to his feet. In the summer, we would get him sheared so he would stay cool. Eventually, I was the one who took him to be sheared; and when I would bring him home, Doc (Dad’s bird dog) would growl at him because he didn’t recognize Bugs with his hair all gone. Bugs would be so embarrassed; he wouldn’t want to get out of the car.
When we moved to our new house, Dad was afraid that Bugs would chase the neighbor’s chickens so he gave Bugs to one of movers. It totally broke my heart as I stood there in the yard crying as they started to leave with my little dog; but Dad’s heart got the best of him and he took him back from the movers. Incidentally, he never chased any of the neighborhood chickens.
Bugs was a natural retriever. You could throw a rock anywhere in the yard or gravel driveway and he would bring back the exact rock that you threw. Now, I have to tell you what Cheryl and I would do to him every once in a while. We had this little one-room house in the yard where the cats would keep their kittens. In the summer, the kittens would sit in the door to enjoy the fresh air. We would throw a rock in the little house, and in there Bugs would go to get his rock. Let me add here that the kittens were in no danger from the rocks or Bugs. But, they would jump around growling and hissing at him; they were so cute. He paid no attention to them; he just wanted get his rock and bring it back so we would throw it again. And, we would – right back into the little house.
Another cute thing he would do was howl when the car horn was blown; I guess it hurt his ears. But, sometimes we would pretend to howl and he would throw that little head back and just howl.
I remember one time we all walked back in the fields to see an old gentleman who lived a little shack back there. Bugs went with us; but when we got back to the house, Bugs wasn’t with us. We called and called, but he still didn’t come to the house. Dad decided that he had fallen into a dry well in the field. So, he and Mom walked back to the well and sure enough, Bugs was in the well. Dad held Mom’s legs and lowered her into the well to get a hold of him and lift him out. She wasn’t too keen on the idea; she was afraid Bugs would bite her when she lifted him out. Of course he didn’t and Dad once again saved my little dog.
We moved to Memphis so my dad could attend Getwell School of Preaching and we left Bugs with Mawdie. She loved him as much as we did and took good care of him. He grew old and one day, some kids were shooting firecrackers behind her house; and since he was gun-shy, the noise scared him and he ran to a field behind her house, had a heart attack and died. My dad couldn’t save my Bugs this time. I loved him very much.
See ya next Wednesday.