- Jun 5, 2020
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- Marital Status
- Married
I think I was five years old when my mom and dad headed out to a farm outside of Kenmore to check out some puppies. We knew nothing of this but this story it came down from them. They went into a barn and saw six puppies just old enough to be weaned from their mother.
Five were strong and playful but one was not. She was tiny compared to her brothers and sisters and the farmer said to my parents, “She’ll likely die, I thought to put her down and all, but she so cute I just couldn’t and decided to leave it to God.”
Truth was my mom didn’t want a dog but when she saw that runt of the littler she fell in love with her. So my parents decided to bring her home. And this is where my part in this tender Christmas story begins.
It was a week before Christmas when my dad came in wearing his over sized overcoat. Nothing was in his hands. I came over and hugged him as I always did when he came in but something caused me to jump back.
“You’re pocket moved,” I exclaimed, “Daddy’s what in your pocket?”
He smiled a secrete little smile as my other siblings who didn’t think to greet him suddenly became alert. He reached gently with his giant hands into his long green pocket and pulled out the smallest puppy I ever saw. Black, brown and gold with floppy ears I knew I was in love and squealed, “a puppy!”
“Merry Christmas,” he said handing that puppy to me as my siblings hurried over to see. I sat down , the tiny puppy on my lap, as my dad went to his chair, the one in the kitchen he always sat in. All four of my siblings sought to pet her and one by one they wanted her on their laps as well.
We named her Smoky for fire and Smoky of her black patched fur and she lived growing strong and loyal. To this day none of the dog’s I’ve owned equaled her for her intelligence and loving nature. She protect our home from burglars both real and brotherly, and survive a tornado that took out the old apple tree on our family farm.
Sadly, she died young because she was the runt of her litter, but to this day I never forget finding her tucked neatly in my daddies pocket, the most precious and beloved puppy I would ever come to love.
Five were strong and playful but one was not. She was tiny compared to her brothers and sisters and the farmer said to my parents, “She’ll likely die, I thought to put her down and all, but she so cute I just couldn’t and decided to leave it to God.”
Truth was my mom didn’t want a dog but when she saw that runt of the littler she fell in love with her. So my parents decided to bring her home. And this is where my part in this tender Christmas story begins.
It was a week before Christmas when my dad came in wearing his over sized overcoat. Nothing was in his hands. I came over and hugged him as I always did when he came in but something caused me to jump back.
“You’re pocket moved,” I exclaimed, “Daddy’s what in your pocket?”
He smiled a secrete little smile as my other siblings who didn’t think to greet him suddenly became alert. He reached gently with his giant hands into his long green pocket and pulled out the smallest puppy I ever saw. Black, brown and gold with floppy ears I knew I was in love and squealed, “a puppy!”
“Merry Christmas,” he said handing that puppy to me as my siblings hurried over to see. I sat down , the tiny puppy on my lap, as my dad went to his chair, the one in the kitchen he always sat in. All four of my siblings sought to pet her and one by one they wanted her on their laps as well.
We named her Smoky for fire and Smoky of her black patched fur and she lived growing strong and loyal. To this day none of the dog’s I’ve owned equaled her for her intelligence and loving nature. She protect our home from burglars both real and brotherly, and survive a tornado that took out the old apple tree on our family farm.
Sadly, she died young because she was the runt of her litter, but to this day I never forget finding her tucked neatly in my daddies pocket, the most precious and beloved puppy I would ever come to love.
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