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I have just been down memory lane, thinking about all the dogs I/we have had.
My first dog, Trixie, was a mongrel, maybe 50% beagle and the rest a mystery. I was working for a vet at the time, a friend of the family, and we were called out to collect a bitch and her pups, who had been abandoned in a back yard whilst their owners went off for 6 weeks holiday. I am pleased to say that we found homes for all 5 pups and the mother. Trixie was a beautiful pup and I took her to work with me. I ended up leaving her with my parents when I married in 1967. She was a family dog, so I couldnt take her away from my parents. Trixie lived to be nearly 14.
When Dave and I moved into a lonely house in Bavaria, we decided it was time for a beagle. We answered an advert by a single mother who desperately needed a home for a 6 month old beagle, a christmas present for her 12 year old daughter, which had gone very wrong. The flat they lived in was wrecked. The dog had been locked up from early morning until the child came home from school. We drove over and saw the beautiful beagle sitting there in the garden. The poor dog was most upset when we put her in the car. I dread to think how upset the daughter must have been, but the mother said she had agreed that her daughter could buy a Hi Fi with the money we paid her.
The dog was called 'Waldi' by its owners, with an official name of 'Walda von Lehnerhaus' by the breeders. I'm afraid we were very cruel and Waldi became Bilbo before we even got her home. She christened our lounge by pooing in the middle of it!
Poor Bilbo needed some time to get used to her new home. Of course it was great for her. She had a huge garden and I was home 24 hours. Unfortunately her new home had one problem, no garden fence. She soon took over the neighbourhood, nothing was safe. We came to an aggreement that anything she brought home, we would place on the gate post at the bottom of our garden. Thus a steady stream of toys and household goods were put on display. What we couldnt put out were the breaded schnitzels and other food items. Once Bilbo came home with what at first I feared was a cat, but closer inspection revealed a rabbit. She ate it apart from the head, which she buried in a neighbours garden. A neighbour, of course, who hated Bilbo, as the dog would dash in and steal the washing, above all socks, when this lady was hanging them out to dry. The poor woman only had one arm and the dog took advantage of this.
Bilbo got pregnant by a local casonova, a delightful mongrel known as Joey. We considered Joey to be no threat when bilbo came on heat, with his tiny legs he couldnt have mated anything bigger than a guinea-pig. How wrong we were! Our back steps were all he needed. The six pups were delightful and we soon became the attraction for the village children.
Bilbos days of freedom ended when the local hunter called to warn us that she had joined up with other dogs and was hunting. if he caught them again he would have to shoot.
Bilbo was well travelled going with us to eastern Turkey, as far as the Iranian border, Greece and northern Africa and of course most of Europe.
As she grew older she became epeleptic and coldnt walk far so we would carry her in a large rucksack, even up mountains. One night, when she was nearly 14, she had a massive attack and died. It broke our hearts and we said no more dogs. However, 2 weeks later we saw an advert for a home needed for a 6 month old beagle. It was the same old story. The family lived in a flat in Munich and both parents worked and the children didnt get home from school until late afternoon. Spotty, we decided not to change her name, arrived pulling her owner down our garden path. We suggested she let Spotty off the lead, resulting in the dog running into our house and jumping on the dining room table. Spotty was at home!!
I think Spotty was more of a thief than Bilbo had been, the worst case being in a French restaurant, when she stole a whole camenbert cheese from the desert trolley.
Spotty also produced 6 pups, the father another Spanish stray, brought over by neighbours of ours. Four of the pups are still alive, one is living in Washington.
A well travelled dog, Spotty was one of the first to be allowed into Britain when they relaxed restrictions.
At 12 Spotty developed cancer, survived an operation to remove several tumors. At 14 cancer caught up with her and she had to be put to sleep. once again we said no more dogs, as our loss hurt so much. However, a lot of you know what happened.
Susi and Snoopy are now our lives.
Sorry to bore you, but i felt Bilbo and Spotty should be brought back to life.
First two pictures are of Bilbo, the third Spotty
My first dog, Trixie, was a mongrel, maybe 50% beagle and the rest a mystery. I was working for a vet at the time, a friend of the family, and we were called out to collect a bitch and her pups, who had been abandoned in a back yard whilst their owners went off for 6 weeks holiday. I am pleased to say that we found homes for all 5 pups and the mother. Trixie was a beautiful pup and I took her to work with me. I ended up leaving her with my parents when I married in 1967. She was a family dog, so I couldnt take her away from my parents. Trixie lived to be nearly 14.
When Dave and I moved into a lonely house in Bavaria, we decided it was time for a beagle. We answered an advert by a single mother who desperately needed a home for a 6 month old beagle, a christmas present for her 12 year old daughter, which had gone very wrong. The flat they lived in was wrecked. The dog had been locked up from early morning until the child came home from school. We drove over and saw the beautiful beagle sitting there in the garden. The poor dog was most upset when we put her in the car. I dread to think how upset the daughter must have been, but the mother said she had agreed that her daughter could buy a Hi Fi with the money we paid her.
The dog was called 'Waldi' by its owners, with an official name of 'Walda von Lehnerhaus' by the breeders. I'm afraid we were very cruel and Waldi became Bilbo before we even got her home. She christened our lounge by pooing in the middle of it!
Poor Bilbo needed some time to get used to her new home. Of course it was great for her. She had a huge garden and I was home 24 hours. Unfortunately her new home had one problem, no garden fence. She soon took over the neighbourhood, nothing was safe. We came to an aggreement that anything she brought home, we would place on the gate post at the bottom of our garden. Thus a steady stream of toys and household goods were put on display. What we couldnt put out were the breaded schnitzels and other food items. Once Bilbo came home with what at first I feared was a cat, but closer inspection revealed a rabbit. She ate it apart from the head, which she buried in a neighbours garden. A neighbour, of course, who hated Bilbo, as the dog would dash in and steal the washing, above all socks, when this lady was hanging them out to dry. The poor woman only had one arm and the dog took advantage of this.
Bilbo got pregnant by a local casonova, a delightful mongrel known as Joey. We considered Joey to be no threat when bilbo came on heat, with his tiny legs he couldnt have mated anything bigger than a guinea-pig. How wrong we were! Our back steps were all he needed. The six pups were delightful and we soon became the attraction for the village children.
Bilbos days of freedom ended when the local hunter called to warn us that she had joined up with other dogs and was hunting. if he caught them again he would have to shoot.
Bilbo was well travelled going with us to eastern Turkey, as far as the Iranian border, Greece and northern Africa and of course most of Europe.
As she grew older she became epeleptic and coldnt walk far so we would carry her in a large rucksack, even up mountains. One night, when she was nearly 14, she had a massive attack and died. It broke our hearts and we said no more dogs. However, 2 weeks later we saw an advert for a home needed for a 6 month old beagle. It was the same old story. The family lived in a flat in Munich and both parents worked and the children didnt get home from school until late afternoon. Spotty, we decided not to change her name, arrived pulling her owner down our garden path. We suggested she let Spotty off the lead, resulting in the dog running into our house and jumping on the dining room table. Spotty was at home!!
I think Spotty was more of a thief than Bilbo had been, the worst case being in a French restaurant, when she stole a whole camenbert cheese from the desert trolley.
Spotty also produced 6 pups, the father another Spanish stray, brought over by neighbours of ours. Four of the pups are still alive, one is living in Washington.
A well travelled dog, Spotty was one of the first to be allowed into Britain when they relaxed restrictions.
At 12 Spotty developed cancer, survived an operation to remove several tumors. At 14 cancer caught up with her and she had to be put to sleep. once again we said no more dogs, as our loss hurt so much. However, a lot of you know what happened.
Susi and Snoopy are now our lives.
Sorry to bore you, but i felt Bilbo and Spotty should be brought back to life.
First two pictures are of Bilbo, the third Spotty
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