Rusty Was A Lover
Have you ever noticed that a song is like a tiny story?
It has a beginning a middle and an end. This morning I was listening to an Elvis Presley song called “old Shep”.
If you never heard the song before, you might like to find it and play it right now. If you have feelings that go deep enough, that’s a beautiful thing and if memories bring tears, those tears are beautiful also. I guess listening to that song made me think of Rusty as I wondered how could I miss him so much after all these years, just by listening to a song.
Anyone could just look at him and see that Rusty was a lover. He had such a sweet copper colored face and little pointed head . He had so much enthusiasm and would jump all over you which was fun at first, but he didn’t know when to stop. It could get a bit annoying because he smelled bad. I don’t think I gave him as much attention as he deserved because he was so “wiffy “. .I guess I could’ve given him a bath but I was nine. Nine-year-olds barely want to bathe themselves. Besides, it was a lot more fun to explore the world and get into trouble with my friends, than to give Rusty a bath.
I remember cruising home on my blue three speed bicycle and there was Rusty with his tailwagging in rapid motion at at least 150,000 miles per hour.
Rusty came to live with us about the year 1950. A friend of Dad’s came over to our house one morning and parked in the driveway. He hauled out a big box filled with Irish setter puppies. Nothing will melt your heart faster than a box full of adorable puppies. These puppies were all copper colored like new pennies. They were all wiggling and excited and peeing everywhere. They all looked like they were saying — — “pick me, pick me.”
Well one of us picked out Rusty and it might’ve been me but who cares. I went to bed that night a very happy little nine-year-old boy to have such a pretty dog like Rusty.
I am also a little brat and one day I decided to have some fun at my mother’s expense. I knew that Mom had in her possessions a ceramic dog poo. I told my friend Bill, let’s have some fun. I went and got Mom’s ceramic dog poo and put it in the middle of the floor where such a thing was sure to upset her. I yelled at the top of my lungs, to cover up my urge to laugh, and said, “ Mom, Rusty pooped on the floor. “ ! ! She growled and grumbled and went and got a dustpan and a broom. She fell for it hook line and sinker until the ceramic artifact bounced into her dustpan and Bill and I laughed our socks off. Poor Rusty, mom blamed him for something he didn’t even do. Not that he wouldn’t do that. It’s just that this time he was innocent.
It was never considered that Rusty would be an inside dog. Dad cut hole in the siding underneath the kitchen stairs where Rusty could live and have lots of room. If I would’ve thought of it, I would’ve put a little swinging door there to keep out the cold night air but then again maybe Rusty enjoyed looking out of his “doghouse” and keeping an eye on everything.
I think dogs are very tough animals. On one occasion, Rusty fell off of the kitchen porch landing onto the patio below while he was eating. He just let out a little grunt and ran back up the stairs and finished eating his dinner like nothing happened. I guess he was afraid some other dog might get his food the way he always gulped it down. He acted like he was starving to death. Mom cooked rusty lots of vegetables from Dad’s garden and he also had Bonnie dog food and some questionable dog biscuits in the garage. Dad bought 50 pound bags of some sort of dog biscuits. The flavors were green, pink, black, yellow, red and tan.I liked the tan ones the best. Rusty didn’t get many of those.
Dad was always quite a photographer and one day he decided to get a picture of Rusty and me together. Dad always warned me that if by taking my picture, I broke his camera, I would have to pay for it. I was pretty sure he was kidding and I think I hurled a few insults his way just to get even. That being said, I think exchanging insults is one of my fondest memories of Dad. Anyway, Dad placed Rusty and me on a berm in the backyard posing for the picture. I think I had on my Boy Scout uniform . I drew Rusty close to me because I wanted to show posterity that I love this dog and I wanted the picture to show it. When the picture was taken, Rusty trotted off to his doghouse. I look at the side of my uniform and I was covered with hundreds of fleas. I know it wasn’t Rusty’s fault but yuck. Dad went somewhere and bought something called “sheep dip “. I don’t know what is in sheep dip but it’s very potent and Dad swept up a huge pile of dead fleas from the patio after we dipped Rusty. Think of it, the year was 1950 and I don’t think we really want to know what they put into sheep dip.
One day, I was playing with some friends. We were having a cap gun war over who was better, Lash Leroux or Roy Rogers.
( It was Lash ! ) Barney yelled that it was almost 4:45. We ought to get on home to listen to The Green Hornet.
When I arrived at home mom heard me come in and said, come here for a minute Jimmy. They had long faces and I could tell that something bad had happened. They said some reason Rusty bit a little girl that lived down the street and she was going to need some stitches. Rusty never acted like that before. We trusted him to run freely over the countryside most of the time. He could chase jackrabbits and pheasants and gophers and lizards and snakes. But why would he attack this little girl that lived down the street. I had no idea why he did that but I knew that it was a bad thing. The next day Dad became my hero. He told me that the little girl’s parents were not angry with Rusty. They just wanted us to get rid of Rusty so that could never happen again. Fortunately, Dad said, he had a friend that had moved to Oregon and had a huge ranch. Dad told me it was a perfect place for Rusty. He could run and play with the horses and the cows and the chickens and the other dogs that live there too..
As a little nine-year-old boy, of course I cried because I had to lose Rusty but I was so relieved to know that he was going to such a good home and will be very well taken care of for the rest of his life. As a little nine-year-old I missed Rusty for a very long time . I wish he could somehow know that I still remember and love that shiny penny.
