What self respecting dudes would ever name their dogs Cuddles and Puddles? Well, I hate to admit it, but Richard and I did.
On a trip to the Florence, AL dog pound, our hearts were captured by two black and white spotted, mostly beagle, pups. They were so cute and so full of life, and almost mirror images of each other. I do not remember why we went to the pound, or why we were rewarded with puppies, but we ended up with the sisters.
Richard and I lived across the street from each other in the Mockingbird Trailer Park. From the first time we met we became fast friends and during the two years in the Mockingbird and the three years in Waverly, Tennessee we shared the growing pains of puberty.
During the summer months, we would take the opportunity of taking the dogs out at night and turn it into an adventure. We would roam the trailer park in the early morning hours, and finally return home and tiptoe back to our beds unnoticed by our families.
The dogs were also close siblings and friends and Cuddles, my dog, really missed her sister when we finally parted ways.
Cuddles lived a fairly long life, but as did the majority of my early dogs, she was killed by a passing automobile. I remember that I was home on leave, about to ship out for Vietnam, when I heard the squeal of the brakes and the terrible yelps. I ran to the highway, picked her up in my arms, took her to a neighbor’s yard, and laid her down. She was obviously having trouble breathing and I instinctively began blowing breaths into her wet nose. I must have puffed a dozen breaths into her before it was obvious she was beyond help.
I sat there for a long time, holding Cuddles, and talking to her about my memories of her and Puddles.
She was a good dog, most are, but sadly all I can remember about her is the sneaking out and the futile attempt at saving her life. Strange what we remember, but that is life.
I do not know what happened to Puddles, but chances are it was a passing car.
On a trip to the Florence, AL dog pound, our hearts were captured by two black and white spotted, mostly beagle, pups. They were so cute and so full of life, and almost mirror images of each other. I do not remember why we went to the pound, or why we were rewarded with puppies, but we ended up with the sisters.
Richard and I lived across the street from each other in the Mockingbird Trailer Park. From the first time we met we became fast friends and during the two years in the Mockingbird and the three years in Waverly, Tennessee we shared the growing pains of puberty.
During the summer months, we would take the opportunity of taking the dogs out at night and turn it into an adventure. We would roam the trailer park in the early morning hours, and finally return home and tiptoe back to our beds unnoticed by our families.
The dogs were also close siblings and friends and Cuddles, my dog, really missed her sister when we finally parted ways.
Cuddles lived a fairly long life, but as did the majority of my early dogs, she was killed by a passing automobile. I remember that I was home on leave, about to ship out for Vietnam, when I heard the squeal of the brakes and the terrible yelps. I ran to the highway, picked her up in my arms, took her to a neighbor’s yard, and laid her down. She was obviously having trouble breathing and I instinctively began blowing breaths into her wet nose. I must have puffed a dozen breaths into her before it was obvious she was beyond help.
I sat there for a long time, holding Cuddles, and talking to her about my memories of her and Puddles.
She was a good dog, most are, but sadly all I can remember about her is the sneaking out and the futile attempt at saving her life. Strange what we remember, but that is life.
I do not know what happened to Puddles, but chances are it was a passing car.
