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Love Of Animals by Elaine Krauss

Perhaps there have been short periods of time when I did not have a pet, but for most of my life, my dog has been my special friend.

I remember that as a small child my parents had a mixed terrier called, Honey Boy. He was so smart that he could follow my mother to the chicken store, on a daily basis, wait for her and return home. Our dog never bothered the chickens. The chicken store was a place where one could choose a live chicken and a special person would butcher it. It was a Jewish tradition. While Honey Boy had a lot of freedom, he stayed especially close to my mother. I guess he could have been Mollie's dog. He recalls for me my dear mother.

During my childhood my father would take me to Maxwell Street to buy me a tiny puppy for fifty cents. I would go home with my father and my new-found friend on the Roosevelt Street car.

When I was in my twenties and at work, I received a phone call that my then pet terrier, Peanuts had been picked up by the Animal Control Unit. I began to cry and went to my employer to get permission to leave work at once. He was totally disgusted with me. To think that I dared to leave my job to retrieve a dog! I phoned my husband and we went to the pound at 26th and California. There in a little cage was my frightened little friend. We paid our fine, hugged Peanuts and he had a special ride home; not in a paddy wagon, but in our `42 Chevy.

This is how it has been all through the years. After my dog, Charley died I went to a Fair on Peterson Street. There I met a lady who had a dog chained to a post. This dog had the same color coat as my Charley. I told her that I was so moved to see her dog as he had the same color coat of a dog I had just lost.

She told me that she wasn't sure that she would be able to keep the dog because of her job and we exchanged phone numbers. I went home and totally forgot this incident until several months later when the woman called me. She said that she had decided to get rid of the brown and white beagle and if I was interested in it, she would not take it to the pound. I told her that I truly could not remember the dog and that if she cared to bring it over, I would take another look at it. She was at my door with P.J. the very next day. Need I say more? P.J., my friend has been with me for seven or eight years. He continues my love for the four legged ones!

Each dog that I've owned is closely connected with my life as it was at the time we were together and often when I think about them, a well of feelings wash over me. My pets have truly been my friends and comforters.

Originally Posted on Tuesday, July 02, 2002 - 12:34 PM (2959 Reads)


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