While it seems like I have had dogs my entire life, my family did not own one until I was 5 or 6 years old- and I don't remember pining for one before that (at least, not in the way that I wanted a horse when I was younger). I do remember wanting a Dalmatian after 101 Dalmatians came out- who didn't- but my parents were rightly concerned about the Dalmatian's high energy level. They did consider adopting an older, rescued Greyhound, but it fell through because of a little incident. We arrived at the rescue, which was a lady's house. She opened the door, and we were immediately surrounded by three or four Greyhounds that were as tall as I was. Not having much experience with dogs at the time, I FREAKED. I started crying and trying to climb up my parents. Naturally, they turned around and left. The rescue lady probably silently cursed me as she watched us leave.
After that, my parents must have decided to get a puppy instead that I could grow with. They decided on either a Lab or a Golden Retriever. The drawbacks were the oil on the Lab's coat, and the excessive shedding of the Golden's coat. When a litter of Goldens became available in Katy, off we went.
The dam of the litter had produced 16 puppies. Sixteen! That's crazy! The people locked my mom and I into their kitchen with 14 of the puppies, and my mom told me to pick one. I stared around me, completely overwhelmed by the 14 puppies playing with each other, and I slowly turned around until my hand smacked something next to me. I looked, and sitting there, like she belonged there, was a female puppy. So that was it. I lifted my hand, placed it on her head, and said, "This one". Everyone was a little shocked that I had picked one just like that, and I think they asked if I was sure. I was. There was no doubt in my mind.
And so we headed home with Mindy, who got carsick and threw up on the way. She was dubbed "Kristin's Mindy Sue" in her AKC papers. She spent her puppy years chasing me, grabbing onto any jackets I was wearing, and dragging me around the yard. She loved to jump; I could set up anything and she would do her best to get over it. I stacked up a pile of bricks once and made her sit on it, like it was her throne. Mindy loved my family so much. She was very protective of us, which is especially saying something since she was a Golden. One time my mom was in the backyard, and someone was working on the roof of the neighbor's house behind us. Mindy planted herself in between my mom and the man on the roof and started growling and barking, which was very uncharacteristic of her, for she liked everybody. The man was puzzled, but he took the warning.
One of my favorite but most guilty memories of Mindy is when I was very young. Not having any siblings of my own at the time, Mindy was pretty much my sister. One morning I was eating my poptart breakfast, and Mindy walked by. Being the mean sister that I was, I gave her my poptart, then yelled, "Mindy ate my poptart!" She got into big trouble for "stealing" my food. I apologized to her for that many times later in life. I think I had been trying to get back at her for chewing on one of my toys.
Like I said before, Mindy liked everyone. I used to walk her around the neighborhood, and kids would come up to us and fawn all over her. One time my mom was walking her, and a child ran up to her. The kid's mom was scared at first, but then she said, "Oh, is that Mindy? Oh, that's alright then."
I have so many memories of Mindy that I could write pages and pages on- like when my mom brought her up to school for my "Falcon of the Week" talk. Or how one night, when my family was staying in my grandparents' house, she had been locked in the laundry room- or so we thought. I was upstairs in the bedroom when I heard the clicking of toenails on the wood floor. I looked down the stairs to see Mindy standing there, staring up at me, like "I found you!". Or how she would always growl at hot air balloons flying overhead, daring them to land in our backyard. Or how, every time she was excited, she would walk around whining, usually with a stuffed "baby" in her mouth.
As Mindy got older, she developed arthritis and a large mammary tumor. The arthritis made it hard for her to get up and down, and she stopped going upstairs like she did in her younger days. And yet, one day when I got home from college, I walked outside to see her, and she was so happy to see me that she jumped on me. That year of college was hard for me, as I knew she was getting closer to her time to go. Every time I got home, I would immediately go looking for her, afraid that she would be gone and I wouldn't have had the chance to say goodbye. And then, one day, she was. I got home for Christmas break my sophomore year (2006), walked in the door, and was greeted by her daughter, Penny. I looked at my mom, said, "Where's Mindy?", and the look on her face told me everything. I dropped everything I was holding and started sobbing. My mom tried to hug me, but Penny wouldn't let her get to me- she shoved herself in between us and tried to put her head on my leg. It was like she too was reliving the pain all over again. My mom said that Mindy had gotten very sick. She tried to hold out until I got home, but it would have been cruel to do that to her. She didn't want to tell me and have me bomb all of my finals. Mindy was 14 and a half years old, a good old age for a retriever.
Mindy was buried on some property my parents owned at the time in Bellville. It is a peaceful spot, with a rose bush growing next to it. I went up to see her and tell her goodbye. I still get to see her in my dreams- always something I wake up from with reluctance- but I miss her so much, even six years later. Mindy was one of the best dogs I will ever have the pleasure of owning.

It was while Mindy and I were both very young that my family acquired its second dog. I was outside playing in the yard with some friends when a cocker spaniel wandered into my parents garage. My dad gave it some food, which it devoured, and then it took off down the street. I don't know how long my dad spent chasing it before he could finally catch it. It turned out that it was an older female in serious need of some vet care. Her fur was matted, and she had some other issues from living as a stray and eating whatever she could find. My parents took her to the vet, and the groomer called my mom and started yelling at her, not realizing my parents had rescued the dog from the street.
After she returned home from the vet, my parents decided to keep her. She was blind, deaf, and old- who else would want her? We ended up calling her Lacy. She was very sweet and trusting, for being an old dog with no hearing or sight that was suddenly thrust into a new home. And amazingly, every morning, when it was time to let the dogs out, Mindy would go find her and nudge her to let her know they were going outside. It's incredible how she seemed to know that she needed her. How else was she going to know the door was open?
Lacy lived with us for a year before she got very sick and it was her time to go. We were all very sad to lose her, but we at least were able to give her a happy final year where she wasn't having to catch her own dinner. The vet sent us a pretty plaque with a poem on it in her honor.
Shortly after my family got Mindy, my uncle got a male Golden Retriever whom he named Rex. I always called Mindy and Rex husband and wife, for they had many children together- three litters. I don't know how my mom stood firm against keeping a puppy from the first litter, but in the second litter, she caved, and we kept Penny, or "Jewel" (I named all of the puppies from every litter so that I could keep track of them). Since I had begged and begged to keep her, it was a fantastic surprise to me. I don't remember what tied me to Penny, but I know that she was mine from the beginning. Since Penny was the lucky one that got to stay with us, she was dubbed "Mindy's Lucky Penny".
Penny was always a goof. She was very smart, even though she was frequently told otherwise. She was nicknamed "Skinny Penny" because, until she was spayed, she was very, very slender. Probably one of the things she was most known for was how scared she was of EVERYTHING. Balloons, small dogs- everything. One day, my dad took her and my sister in the truck to go watch a hot air balloon be launched. What he did not anticipate was that when the balloon started rising, it would scare the crap out of Penny- literally. After that, anytime a hot air balloon flew over the house, Penny would disappear, even into places that you had no idea how she could fit.
While Mindy was my mom's dog, Penny was very much mine. She was emotionally tied to me in a way that I've not had with any other dog. In high school, I raised rabbits for FFA, and I was having a very difficult time with the fact that my baby bunnies would be going to slaughter. The night after they were taken away, I went home and went to my room. Penny followed me. We both got on my bed, and I turned away from her and started just sobbing, I was so broken hearted. I suddenly felt a nudge in my back, so I turned around. Penny had the most crumpled expression on her face. She then too started whimpering. She didn't know what was wrong, but she knew it was something terrible. There was also the aforementioned incident when I was told that Mindy had died, and Penny tried to be the one that comforted me.
It was not always rainbows and unicorns with Penny. One day, she and I were sitting on the porch swing in my backyard. No one else was home, and we were just hanging out. I went to get off the swing, and Penny did too, only her leg caught. I quickly grabbed her and threw her back onto the swing, and removed her leg from the slat. Then we tried again. Her leg slipped again back in between the boards, only this time I didn't move fast enough, and she was hanging by her leg, thrashing and yelping. I grabbed at her, only to have her teeth close on my hand- and not let go. I started screaming, too- "God, help me! Help her! Help us!" She released my hand and I reached for her again, only to have her grab my other hand in her teeth and clamp down tightly. I got free and tried again- and she got the first hand again. Suddenly, the wind blew very hard, blowing back the bench, and she was free. She released me and immediately cowered down, a look of "What have I done?" on her face. I stood there a few moments, catching my breath and making sure she was ok, then looked at my hands, which were dripping blood. Fortunately, my neighbor across the street was outside when I walked up, holding out my hands, and she took me to our nurse neighbor who bandaged me up. The doctor said I wouldn't need stitches, and I was good to go. I still have scars from the incident on my hands, but I am grateful for them, for they are a physical reminder of my girl.
Going off to college and leaving Penny behind was very hard. Even when I had the ability to bring her with me, I decided she would be better off staying with my parents, for that was what she knew. She was very old at that point, and she did not really like new places. Penny had always slept with me in my bed at home, and it was strange having a bed all to myself in my dorm room.
In November of 2010, I got one of the worst calls ever while out with some of my friends. My mom called asking if I could come home that weekend, for she was afraid that it was Penny's time. I told her before that I wanted to be there if Penny needed to be put down, especially since I hadn't been there for Mindy. I got home that weekend, and Penny seemed pretty normal- she was excited to see me, like always. But my mom said it was all an act for me. She was having a very hard time getting up, and she was sick. It was my decision. After watching her all weekend, I decided it was more cruel to make her keep on going for my sake. I spent a long time the night before laying with her in her bed in the kitchen.
The next day was one of the worst days of my life. My then 17 year old brother loaded Penny into my parents' truck with tears in his eyes, and my mom and I got in and headed towards the vet. I remember at a light, a lady pulled up in the lane next to us, wanting to turn right, and kept honking peevishly, over and over, at the car in front of her, as that person was blocking her. I wanted to get out and throttle her. Here I am, taking my beloved dog to her death, and she couldn't take a moment to shut up and be patient.
We got to the vet, and we had to wait in the waiting room while they prepared a room for us. Penny was freaking out, as she recognized where she was. Some guy was standing next to us, and his stupid dog kept barking and lunging at Penny, making her even more upset. I wish to this day I had asked him to remove his dog from us. She deserved a quieter last few minutes than that. The vet called us back into an open office, not an exam room, took Penny to put an IV in, then brought her back so that we could tell her goodbye. We had probably 10 minutes with her to tell her how much we loved her, for me to tell her she was the best dog ever, that I was so sorry I was doing this to her. I often relive those moments. The vet then came back in and very compassionately put her to sleep. She died with her head in my lap. I held her for a while after it was over. I told her that Mindy, Rex, and several others would be waiting for her, and to let them know we loved and missed them. The second hardest part of that day was leaving her body laying on the floor. I knew she was no longer there, but I felt so guilty just leaving her behind.
To this day I still sob over Penny. I love my dogs, and I know I'll have future dogs that I'll love, but I don't know that any will ever be at Penny-level for me. I dream about her often, which is nice, as it is an opportunity to be with her again, for a little while. Penny lived to be 13 years old, again, a good age for a Golden. I only wish she could have lived forever.
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My bed buddy, with a young Dixie |
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A rare moment of camaraderie between Penny and Reeses |
Around the year 2004, my mom decided that she wanted a lap dog. I don't remember how, but we ended up getting a little black and tan female mutt, who we named Abbey. She bonded with me; I remember her sleeping with me (and I guess Penny) at night. She was a very, very sweet dog. However, she did enjoy trying to attack my hamster in his cage, even if he was out of her reach. I don't know what happened, but for some reason my parents decided that she wasn't working out. A friend of my dad's said he would give her a good home. I sobbed and made him feel terrible guilty when he came to pick her up.
A little while later, my mom still wanted a lap dog. After doing a lot of research, she settled on the Bichon Frise, as supposedly they were the "Golden Retriever of the little dog world". They were not supposed to be your typical little dog- aka yappy. The problem was that every breeder would be sold out of puppies before the litters were even born. My mom, however, was persistent, and she managed to find a litter in San Antonio. So, she and my dad went to reserve a female puppy.
Out of the six puppies in the litter, two were females. My parents were having a hard time deciding between the two, so, they did what any rational person would do: they picked both of them. My brother, sister and I went to pick up our "puppy", only to discover we were getting puppIES. Thus, my family acquired Dixie, or "Dixie's Belle of the Ball", and Daphnee, or "Daphnee's Dancing Delight".
I can safely say that these two little dogs are just that: little dogs. They are yappy. The smaller one is shaky, like a chihuahua. They don't care to please you. They were terrible to house break. And yet, we love them. Daphnee is my dad's dog- she will literally sit by the back door all day long and wait for him to get home. Dixie is my mom's dog and possibly one of the most timid dogs on the planet. They are adorable, and they are spoiled. They get jealous of each other and sometimes have little sisterly spats. In hindsight, getting two from the same litter was probably not the best idea. But, what are you gonna do?
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Penny, Daphnee, Dixie, & Mindy |
This post is almost coming to a close, but I wanted to mention three more dogs that I temporarily owned- the strays from last year. Someone dumped these guys near my house, and I took them in, got their weight back up, taught them to walk on a leash, got their rabies shots, and adopted them out. One of them, Merle, went to a girl I still talk to. The other two, Cash and Hank, went together to a lady's house, and I haven't heard anything about them since. I was particularly attached to Cash, and it was heart-wrenching having to pick him up and load him into her truck because he was too afraid to leave me. I hope those boys are all doing well, and while I don't particularly miss having 5 dogs to feed and clean up after, I do miss their joyful barks sometimes.
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Cash |
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Hank |
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Merle |
I'm not going to talk much here about my current dogs, Romeo and Fiona, as they are mentioned plenty in my other posts. The stories of how they each came into my life can be seen under the tab at the top labeled "The House". I will say that I love them both very much, and they are both (generally) very good and well-behaved dogs. They both know that I am their mom, and while they don't listen 100% of the time, at the end of the day they love me and want to shadow me everywhere I go. I got Romeo in 2008, after Mindy's time, but I did have him while Penny was around- and it comforts me that he knew her, as silly as that sounds. However, I got Fiona the month after Penny died. I felt guilty, but I had already decided on getting her before knowing Penny was going to be put down. In her honor, I decided that I wanted Fiona's registered name to somehow reflect Penny. Since Fiona's parents both had "little" in their registered names, I decided that needed to be in there, as well. And, I wanted Fiona to fit with it somehow. I ended up coming up with "Fine Little Legacy"- "Fine" for Fiona, "Little" for her parents, and "Legacy" for Penny.

That brings me up to speed on the dogs I have owned. If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with me. Like I said in my intro post, this is entirely for me, and I don't expect others to have any interest whatsoever. But, if you feel like wallowing down Memory Lane with me again, stay tuned for Part Two, The Cats I Have Loved.