Mitzi and Butch

As I was talking to Beverly tonight, she reminded me about the childhood pets I had.  My Dad loved Boston Terriers, and we had two while I was growing up.  Mitzi was the first dog we had.  She was probably my best friend.  I would sit in the middle of the living room, and she would run and jump up on every piece of furniture in the room.  The harder I’d laugh, the faster she would run.  She would just keep going and going.  I’m not really sure I appreciated her personality and her willingness to please me.  One day we found her, and someone had kicked her and wrapped her lungs up around her heart.  It was devastating.  Mitzi is buried in the back of the house by the great big tree.   Never fear, she is not alone, if I count correctly, there are three more Boston Terriers with her.

Next we had Butch.  I remember tearing Kleenex and tossing it in the air, and Butch jumping up to get it.  Of course, I laughed.  I would do this in the car with all the windows down, and he would race around the back seat, so funny.  Butch went everywhere with us.  I remember one time we went to Canada, and along the way we camped by the Salmon River in Idaho.  Butch got in stinging nettle.  That poor dog suffered.  We bathed him in soda water, we tried lotions. We tried everything we could think of to give him the comfort and relief he needed.   

I remember once Mom making me a Little Lulu doll out of Kleenex, and Butch thinking he was playing with me got his teeth into it and tore it up.  He would shake his head ripping it around.  I'm sure he thought it was entertainment.  I cried and cried, and I was so angry with the him.  However, I eventually got over it. 

For those of you who knew my dad, remember he took care of his cars.  They were always immaculately cleaned.  He would go out after a rain storm and wipe his cars down.  He washed and waxed them all the time. He taught me to wash the tires so the white walls were always white. 

Anyway, I remember that on Sunday nights we would go over to the Polar Queen and get a quart of soft ice cream.  We were never, I mean never allowed to eat in Daddy’s car.  However, he would always get a bowl of ice cream for the dog, and the dog could eat in the car.  When I look back on it now, it seems a little unfair but Daddy always said the dog cleaned up his mess.  Daddy loved those dogs.  If Mom was cooking, he would tell her to fry up some hamburger for the dog, or put an egg on for the dog. 

One day Keith went out in the car to drive to the store, and Butch started chasing him.  Keith wasn’t aware of him, and ran over him.  I remember Keith was probably 17, and he cried and cried.  We buried Butch in the back under the tree by Mitzi.