MissyApril 13, 2011
Missy was the dog you have heard about who grew up with us, the one who sat on the corner and watched Johnny’s funeral procession go by, but she did so much more. She had to be either a little bit crazy or possessed of the best disposition a dog ever had to deal with the people in her life. She managed very well. She also managed to entertain us.
A mix of dachshund and beagle, Missy was prone to weight gain. It could have been seven children feeding her, Uncle Dave dragging her around in his wagon so she didn’t need to walk and her own exploits that kept her on the roly poly side. She made daily rounds to neighbors near and far and many of them fed her, too.
When Grandma Beanie sent out the edict that only she would be feeding Missy, the neighbors and all of us kids tried to comply. After a few days of Grandma Beanie being the only person to feed her, Missy stopped eating her dog food. We were all concerned until stories began to come in from businesses on the highway, a block away.
She had gone down to the corner grocery store, walked up the ramp into the meat delivery truck as if she belonged there, stole a couple of steaks and took off toward home. There were other stories of a small chubby weiner-looking dog checking out the restaurant dumpsters. A few days later Grandma Beanie found Missy with a Dairy Queen bag—Dairy Queen was blocks from our house—with someone’s missing milkshakes inside.
Missy didn’t need no stinkin’ diet, she didn’t even need the stinkin’ dog food, and she showed Grandma Beanie.
Johnny loved to take Missy hunting, and the running she did while hunting helped to keep her weight down. She loved Johnny more than any of us. If he said, “Rabbit, Missy, rabbit!” she would go nuts, barking and jumping around. Once, when he returned from hunting Missy was not with him. He was very worried because she had always kept up with him and always returned with him. We all piled into the car (we did a lot of that) and went out looking for Missy. Johnny said she had been missing for a couple of hours. About four blocks away on the other side of the highway that intersected our road we saw Missy, taking her time, and definitely on her way home. We couldn’t lose her that easily.
Missy went with us everywhere we went. She was our mascot and the first mate of any boat Grandpa John dragged home, to minimize fighting amongst us. Her stubby little sea legs could walk the deck of all of the boats Grandpa John ever owned, even if it sometimes made her a bit nervous.
Grandma Beanie often said she wished Missy could talk. We were glad she could not speak, with all she saw. Grandma Beanie didn’t need to know about a lot of what Missy had seen. Oh, the tales that dog could have told. Quotes Pets Children Grandmother Dogs Stories Teens