Chubby the Puppy

When Tonya was in elementary school she had to write an essay (if memory serves me right) on who she most admired. One of the most memorable times in my life was when I read her essay (years later) and discovered she had written about her mother. Can you even imagine that. I child who most admires their mother? I was both proud and honored. I will warn you that the story involved her mother breaking the law. Yes, her honest (well most of the time), law abiding, trying to set a good example mother broke the law. Okay, so it was just a little tiny law, probably a misdemeanor not a felony but the law none the less.

We lived in Houston for many years when the kids were little. Houston has (or at least had) a law about pets that die. You can't bury them in your yard. You have to call a certain department of the city and they come and remove the pet from the side of the road where you are instructed to leave it. They don't always make it the same day. It could be several days before your beloved pet is picked up. I use the term picked up very liberally. We had lived in Houston about four years and we moved to a house on a very busy road. In a very short time several pets (and, I guess, one big wheel) met their demise on that road.

My brother worked for a dog kennel that raised speciality hunting dog. When the dogs would get old or sick and be of no use, someone was responsible for putting them out of "their" misery. We inherited more then one dog when my brother had a favorite dog that he could not "put down". One of these dogs was a Brittany Spaniel that was hit on the highway in front of our house. Our neighbor saw what happened and told me I had to call the city because I was not allowed to bury that dog in my yard. I totally would have buried him but I was afraid the neighbor would turn me in. Out of fear, not good citizenship, I called the city and was instructed to put the dog on the curb in front of the house and someone would come and pick him up and he would be properly disposed of. Several days later a city truck pulled up and a man got out of the truck and picked up a pitch fork and walked over, picked up our dog "on a pitch fork" and threw him into the back of the truck. It all seemed so heartless and cruel. I am all about the cycle of life and this is the way it is and accepting what needs to happen but at that moment I couldn't believe how indignant I was. The kids and I watched this through the living room window. If I had any idea what was going to transpire I would not have had allowed them to watch. Don't ask me what I thought. I'm sure I wasn't expecting them to drive up in a hearse and put him into some little doggy casket. I vowed never again. Of course my idea of never again was we wouldn't have anymore dogs and that would solve the problem. Tonya's heart was broken and it wasn't too long before her dad came home with some puppy that he picked up God knows where. I was livid. I absolutely did not want the kids having to deal with losing another pet. I relented, after all, the kids had already seen the new puppy and were ecstatic. This little brown puppy was a little round ball. He could have been one of those little soft Nerf balls. Of course, Tonya named him Chubby. Tonya never let that puppy leave her side. I'm pretty sure she put him in her bed at night and needless to say, that was never allowed. Not good for the puppy, the child or the linens. We had never even had a "house" dog. It was just a matter of time before the little guy got away and it was time for another doggy funeral. Under the cover of night we buried this puppy under the biggest prettiest tree in our backyard. Actually, it was the only tree that wasn't a pecan tree. He had a respectable ceremony and we never owned another dog for many years.

So Tonya most admired me because I broke the law and buried that dog with a proper funeral in our backyard. I guess if I were teaching by example, at least it involved some compassion and not total lawlessness. Aren't I a lucky mom?