Dog Meat

It seems that everyone has a dog story these days. A few days back I noted an entire table in the bookstore devoted to dog stories. I even have a few of these on my shelves, including one of the best: My Dog Skip.

I've been considering writing about my childhood dog, Tippy.

Here's a summary of his brief little Rat Terrier life:

Tippy was my first birthday present (when I turned one). The dog was three at the time (so he was always two years older than I. The dog ran away many times when I was a child and my dad had to pay to get him out of the pound (remember the dog catcher?).

After we moved to Indiana when I was five, Tippy became increasingly mischevious, getting into scraps with larger dogs. Over the years, he had his side ripped apart by a German Shepherd, got caught in a rabbit trap and showed up three days later with one leg gnawed down to the bone, and had his left ear cut off when one of my friends accidently caught him with the pruning shears.

I found Tippy in the barn when I returned home from school one fall afternoon. I was fourteen, the dog was sixteen. I buried him myself in a hole I dug near the garden.

He's stayed there. Good dog.