My Dogs
A Lifetime of Wonderful Memories
About the Author
In 1948, John McTernan was born in the Bronx, New York. At an early age he moved to Long Island, New York, where he was raised. In 1971, he obtained a BS degree from Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond, VA. From 1972 until retiring in 1998, he was a United States Treasury Agent. As an agent he worked in New York City, Holtsville, NY, Nashville, TN, and finally retired as the agent-in-charge of the Harrisburg, PA field office.
In 1980, John co founded the Christian Police Group, Cops For Christ. He has spoken throughout the United States on behalf of Cops For Christ. He has debated numerous rabbis about Jesus of Nazareth being Israel’s Messiah. From the knowledge obtained from these debates, he wrote the three volume Only Jesus of Nazareth series. He wrote the best selling books, God’s Final Warning to America; Israel: The Blessing or The Curse; and As America Has Done to Israel.
John is married with four children and two dogs. He lives in Millerstown, PA.
You may visit John’s websites at:
www.defendproclaimthefaith.org
Memoirs of John McTernan
“A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast: but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.” Proverbs 12:10.
"If your dog doesn't like someone you probably shouldn't either."
My father, Francis Joseph McTernan, and grandmother, Elizabeth Kane, always loved dogs, and I seemed to have picked this love up from them. I think more from my dad. He had dogs when he was young in Ireland. My grandmother and grandfather John Kane, also were from Ireland. When I was young, my dad told me lots of stories about his dogs. I remember the stories about his Greyhounds. Dogs and Irish people seem to go together. So, I guess I was destined to love dogs. It is in my Irish blood lines!
I have continually had at least one dog since 1958, usually more than one. The following is a chronological list of my dogs with some memories for each. Each dog had an outstanding characteristic or two which I listed. When you live with a dog, just like a person, you can identify outstanding characteristics. I am so glad to have pictures of all the dogs. Some pictures are included so you can see the dogs I have written about.
I thoroughly enjoyed writing these memoirs which captured a significant part of my life. The memories made me smile and laugh. They made me melancholy, as I thought about my youth and growing up. The dogs still bring tears to my eyes when I think about their passing away. These were my friends and in some cases my best friends. Every one of them still lives in my memories. I thank God for each one of them. They brought joy to me and an everlasting friendship that will last as long as I can think. And, by the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ into eternity.
Pixie: 1958-59. Small mutt. Outstanding characteristic: I was too young to determine one.
I remember the day we went to a pet shop and picked her out of a group of pups. It was on Newbridge Ave, East Meadow, NY. It was 1958 and I was 10 years old. I was so excited this was my first dog. My mother picked Pixie out a group of puppies that were in a fenced area. Pixie really took to my mother and kind of ignored me.
I once put the pick-up nozzle of a vacuum cleaner on Pixie and that seemed to end any chance of a close friendship. One day, she got out of the house and a car killed her just down the block from our home. The driver was really upset. My stepfather got a box and put her in it. He then buried her in our backyard at 2609 Susan Dr, East Meadow, NY. It was the first time I came face to face with death and did not like it. I still do not like it, who does!
Princess: 1960-75. Mostly black, mutt fox terrier. Outstanding characteristic: friendship, loyalty.
We grew up together. Princess was my best friend. My father, not my step-father, found her in Manhattan near where he worked. A bunch of kids were playing with her. She was just a very young pup. Dad talked with them about the pup, and found she was living in a coal bin. None of the kids could keep her.
He immediately thought of a dog for Johnny, that is what he still calls me to this day. He paid the kids five dollars for the pup and also bought them some food. To me, this was a great deal. At first, dad had no idea what color the pup was because she was covered with coal. He had to wash her a few times to get all the coal off. It turns out she was mostly black.
My mom and dad did not talk, so I was the go between with the dog. At first, my mother was not interested in getting a pup, but she soon she had a change of heart. My mom also had a soft heart for dogs, and I think she missed Pixie and wanted a dog.
He called and told me he was on the way. He mentioned there was something special about this pup. I can still remember him saying a few times, “she is a beauty.” I was so excited waiting for my dad to arrive. I can still remember sitting by the front window and waiting for him. Finally, his car pulled up, and he arrived with the pup. The pup was a female and mostly a fox terrier. My dad let me chose the name; however, I do not remember why I picked the name Princess. But, a Princess she was.
What memories of this dog. What a friend, my best friend. We were inseparable. She slept with me all the time. She had to be locked up, if I went out, because she would try and track me down. If Princess got out of the house, she would go to my best friend, Jimmy Deines’ house, on her own, looking for me! If I was not there, Mrs. Deines would tell her to go home, I was not there!
My dad had a dog named Teeny. He would come to visit me and we would take the two dogs with us. Dad liked to walk in the woods and of course the dogs came with us. Princess loved to hunt squirrels. We lived in the country and Princess taught dad’s dog to hunt and tree squirrels. Once they started after the squirrels there was no stopping them. I would really enjoy seeing my dad and taking the dogs with us. I was so very happy with my dad and the dogs.
Later, dad had a second dog named Baby. This dog was a very gentle female German Shepard. Teeny trained Baby to hunt squirrels! Dad said he would take them in the park to play, and the dogs would go crazy chasing the squirrels. The mere sight of a squirrel would set his dogs off! This all went back to Princess!
I still remember the day Princess was chasing a squirrel and a car hit her. I could see it coming. I hollered and hollered but she kept running and went directly under the car. She was running with her head up looking at the squirrel as it ran along telephone wires. I watched the car run right over her. There was nothing I could do to stop it.
I ran to her and, to my amazement, she was still alive. The driver was crying he was so upset. I told him it was not his fault and to go. I was crying. My friend Jimmy Deines was with me. He had his car, and immediately we drove her to the veterinarian. I really loved this vet (I can still see his face and the location of his office in Smithtown, NY but can’t remember his name.) The vet said Princess had a broken back and a 50/50 chance of living. He had to keep her overnight to set her back. She lived! I took Princess home and kept her on a pillow until the back healed. We had to carry outside to do her business, which she would only do for me! My mother was amazed, as the dog would hold herself until I took her outside. She fully recovered.
I would ride my bike all over and take her with me. The way I traveled with her was to wrap her around my neck. I would hold her feet with one hand the bike handle with the other. She would not move at all, and I never dropped her. When I began to drive a car, she would go all over with me. She loved car rides and would jump in the back and lay up on the back window sill.
There are so many stories about Princess. She was a big time rat hunter. One day, there was a big pipe in the back of our property, and she was barking and carrying on around it. We were having trouble with rats in the area, and I figured she had trapped a rat. The pipe must have been six feet long. I pick the pipe up and could feel something sliding inside. I turned the pipe up and the object slide out. I watched Princess as she crouched real low and waited. Out came this rat and as it hit the ground she grabbed it by the back of the neck, shook it violently, and flung it in the air. She again crouched low and grabbed the rat as it hit the ground the second time. She was amazingly fast and the rat did not have a chance.
The town I lived in went from country to suburban, seemingly overnight. Princess had a difficult time adjusting to our new neighbors and their animals. One day the neighbor across the street came over and talked with me. He said Princess was raiding his chicken coop, and he tried everything to keep her out! He liked her and did not want to hurt her, so he was putting a cement footer around the coop so she could not dig underneath the fence! That was the way she was getting into his chicken coop.
Soon after this incident, a neighbor down the street came to the house and he was furious. He threatened to kill Princess; in fact, he wanted me to bring her out so he could shoot her! He had large white ducks which were fenced in. Princess would climb the fence, yes climb it, and chase his ducks all around the yard. I do not think she killed a duck. He wanted her real bad. I chased him away from our house.
My sister vividly remembers this incident, and said he was very scared. She was about five at the time and remembers him yelling he wanted to kill Princess. She heard him hollering about wanting to shoot Princess. Whatever happened I do not remember, but there was no more trouble with Princess and his ducks. There are so many memories about this dog.
One day, mom took my brother, Bob, to a little league game. Princess went with them. Mom came back a few hours later all excited, and said Princess had jumped out the window and ran into a swampy area. She called and called and looked all around, but there was no sign of Princess. I could not believe that my mother left without Princess. I would have stayed in the woods all night to locate her. I yelled at mom for coming home without the dog.
I knew where the ball field was, and it was a good ways away. I jumped in the car and with tears in my eyes raced to the ball field. When I got there, Princess was sitting in the parking lot! I pulled up and opened the door, and she leaped into the car. She was so happy to see me. She kissed and licked me and cried. I guess she was afraid of being left. When I got home, mom was so excited that I found Princess. She had tears in her eyes thinking that Princess was lost. Whew that was close.
Princess was never close to Grandpa Kane. He did not like dogs in the house. Grandpa was a farm boy from Ireland, and believed that dogs should live outside. That iss what grandma told me.
When I was about 13, I moved in with my grandparents. Looking back on this time, grandpa made an exception and allowed me to have Princess in the house. He never said a word about her in the house, but I knew he did not like dogs in the house. So, for my sake, he allowed Princess to live in his house. I never realized this until now. More than 40 years later, I just came to realize what Grandpa Kane did for me. When I came to live with Grandpa and Grandma Kane, I guess it was a package deal, me and Princess. Grandpa John Kane really loved me, and I loved him. My parents named me John after Grandpa Kane.
Grandpa never took much interest in Princess, and in fact, ignored her. When he became real sick and was dying Princess devoted herself to him. She never left his side. He became very close with Princess. She wanted to be in the bed with him all the time, or she would lay on the floor next to his bed. Grandma pointed this out to me. Whatever way Grandpa turned, Princess moved to the way he faced. He would put his hand down over the bed and pet her. He did not like dogs in his bed, but now Princess was an exception. She wanted to get in the bed with him all the time.
Princess and I were in the room when Grandpa Kane passed away. I took her out of the bedroom and brought her upstairs. I then came back down and was alone with grandpa. After grandpa passed away, life was never the same, even these so many decades later. I am so happy Princess gave grandpa such comfort during his illness. Truly dogs are man’s best friend. I am so glad grandpa loved Princess at the end.
I went away to college and Princess stayed with grandma. She then, kind of, became grandma’s dog. Grandma loved dogs, and she really loved Princess. In a way, we shared her. What greetings I would get from Princess, when I came home from college. After marrying, I had my own house. I then wanted to take Princess, but grandma asked me not to. We had a long discussed about Princess, and grandma said she was very attached to Princess. At this time, I had two other dogs, so three would have been too much, so Princess stayed with grandma. Princess was still my best friend.
Princess died of old age right around Christmas 1975. My cousin, James Quinn, buried her in grandma’s back yard at 1229 Terry Road, Ronkonkoma, NY. I never asked grandma for the location. I just did not want to know where Princess was buried. At 27 years of age, I cried over that dog. Later in life, I shed many tears over my other best friends.
Picture of Grandma Kane
with Princess on her lap
and Sugar as I remember them.
Sugar: 1968-75(?), mutt smallish and the color of brown sugar. Outstanding characteristic: nervous.
I worked in an Exxon gas station on the corner of the South Service Road of the Long Island Expressway and Old Nichols Road in Hauppauge, NY. There was a Shell Station next to where I worked. Sugar belonged to the Shell Station. She was about two years old, beaten, and mistreated. I was very angry the way they treated Sugar. She was afraid of everyone and starving. It was easy to see she was mistreated.
It took a while to gain Sugar’s trust. I would feed her and finally gained her trust. Sugar would come over to me, and we became friends. She even let me pet her. She began to spend most of her time with me and even followed me to the gas pumps. We became good friends, and as I remember, Sugar only let me get close to her.
One day, my mother came for gas. Sugar was with me at the gas pump. I opened the back door to mom’s car and put Sugar in. Mother was questioning me, and saying, no, no, not another dog. I told her just take Sugar home, and I would explain. When I got home, Sugar was with grandma. They fast became friends. Sugar was very nervous and never got over this nervousness. She did not like strangers. She loved us, but when company came, she went off by herself.
I had a friend who owned a gas station. His nick name was “Greasy John” because he looked like he always needed a shower. John came to the house a few times, and immediately, Sugar would attack him. John never did any thing to her, but the mere sight of John upset Sugar. I think John smelled of grease gas, and it reminded her of the gas station where she was mistreated.
Sugar just stayed with grandma. She got along real well with Princess. Sugar was a real house dog and was happy just with grandma. As Sugar got older, she became nasty and aggressive with kids. Grandma did not like that, and she was afraid Sugar would bite the neighbor’s kids These children were spending more and more time with grandma.
I came over one day and Sugar was gone. Grandma had her put down because of how vicious she became toward kids. It was a sad day, and I had hard feeling toward grandma for doing that without talking it over with me. I would have tried to find a home for Sugar, even if I had to take her. My daughter Rachel was not born yet.
Brummer: 1971-77, Pedigree German Shepard. Pedigree name: Brummer of Prucklish. Outstanding characteristic: Warrior and loyal.
My grandma’s nick name as a child was “Brummer.” No one knew how she obtained this name or what it meant. Brummer was my first pedigree dog, so I thought it would be cute to name her after grandma. Prucklish was grandma’s home town in Ireland. She thought it was very funny to name a dog after her like this. Now, most people might not like a dog named after them, but grandma loved dogs and thought it was funny.
Brummer was a handful. She was high-strung and could be vicious, although she never bit anyone. I was tense with her, but that dog loved me. When I went out, she would sit for hours by the door waiting for me to return.
When Brummer was about a year old, I went back to college for a visit and stayed with my old room mates. Brummer and I stayed in my old room. I went out for breakfast and left Brummer in the room. I knocked on each roommates door and told them to leave her alone and do not go near her. Naturally, one did not listen to ,y advice and opened the door. Brummer came out after him, chased him down the hall to his room, nipping his butt on the way! Brummer was now loose, and she trapped all my old room mates in their rooms. She would not let them out of their rooms! They were all trapped. She patrolled the hallway growling at their doors.
I was away for about two hours and when I came back, Brummer greeted me at the door. I knew there was trouble. I heard my roommates hollering, “Is that you John!” They all had to go to the bathroom; Brummer would not let them out of their rooms. She was growling at their doors! They all ran to the bathroom and were fighting to be the first in. I was laughing hard at this situation. It was so funny seeing four men fighting to be the first in the bathroom. In my presence, she was calm and friendly with them. One or two even managed to pet her.
My brother had a friend Craig. He was afraid of Brummer. She sensed this fear and would terrorize him. She never bit him, but he was really scared of her. One day, I was visiting my mother’s and Craig came. He did not know I was there. Brummer was loose and they met face to face. Poor Craig ran for his life with Brummer after him. When it came to Craig, Burmmer would not listen to me. He ran to the side door of mom’s house and actually kicked it in with one motion. He never stopped running, but on the run, he just kicked the door in. Brummer chased him right into the house. She did not bite him. During this incident, I think if Brummer really wanted, she could have bitten him, and it would have been his butt!
Brummer had two pups, and what an irony as Craig took one. He loved that dog from Brummer. Craig then lost his fear of Brummer, and at the end they got along fine. I can still see the fear on Craig’s face the time Brummer chased him into the house. I was really afraid she would bite Craig, but she never did. Thinking back, maybe it was just a game with Brummer.
Brummer would steal food off the oven and table. She was real sneaky, and I never caught in the act. I fixed her but good. I made a sandwich and loaded it up with ever awful tasting food I could find. On the outside, I spread honey all around. On the inside, it was loaded with hot peppers and Tabasco sauce and whatever other nasty things I could find. I laid the sandwich on the counter and went into the bedroom. Sure enough she took the bait and stole it. I found the sandwich on the floor with a big bite out of it. She was gasping for water. Her tongue was out of her mouth and she was panting. I would not give her any water to fix her. It worked and that was the last time she stole our food.
Rachel was born while I had Brummer. Brummer loved her and came running whenever Rachel cried. She would try to lick Rachel through the side of the crib. She wanted to lick Rachel all the time. As Rachel got older, I became nervous. Brummer did nothing to even suggest she would hurt Rachel, but the dog was so high strung. I was uneasy with her. I was afraid. My father agreed to take Brummer.
Dad had a German Shepard named Baby. Brummer and Baby were best friends. One day, Brummer got out and was killed by a car right in front of my dad’s house. My dad and Ann, my step-mother, were heart broken. He buried Brummer in his backyard in Palenville, NY.
Mac: 1972-84, Mutt mostly German Shepard. He was mostly black. Outstanding characteristic: gentlemen. Nickname: Mackie, Macster.
I named him Mac for McTernan. What a dog Mac was! The best way to describe him was a gentleman. He really was. Nancy, my wife, found him where she worked in Lake Ronkonkoma, NY before we were married. He was a real young pup, and she kept him in her car. He was used to eating old bread and at first would not eat good food.
You had to love Mac. He was really the opposite of Brummer. I had Mac and Brummer at the same time. He was totally laid back and did not have a mean bone in him. He and Brummer got a long fine.
Mac virtually never barked. In fact, it was odd to hear his bark. One day, the neighbor’s kid was wearing a costume and walking past our house making a weird noise. Mac was at the front window growling and carrying on with the hair up on his back. I ran to see what was going on because of the way Mac was acting. It was so strange to hear him bark and growl. I think it was the first time I actually heard Mac growl. Here, the neighbor’s kid was dressed like a monster or spaceman and Mac was all upset. I laughed and laughed.
We lived near a small lake, in North Patchogue, NY called Canaan Lake. Mac loved to swim and fetch sticks out of the water. There were two swans in the lake, and they hated Mac. They would hiss at him and were aggressive with him.
One day, the two swans were flying low and gliding into the lake. They looked down and saw Mac. I had taken him for a walk. The swans lowered their heads and started to hiss at Mac. I could see their tongues hanging out of their mouths. They weren’t looking at where they were flying and were heading right for telephone lines! When they looked up, I could clearly see the panic in the swan’s faces! With everything they had, they furiously flapped their wings to get over the wires. They just cleared the wires and landed in the lake. They then swam back to us and continued to hiss at Mac. He just ignored them.
Mac loved watermelon. I mean loved it. During the Summer, we would sit on the front steps and eat watermelon. Mac would sit in front of me, begging. I wouldd throw him the rine with some red melon on it. He would take that rine in his paws and lick all the melon off it. You could see the delight in his face. He just loved watermelon. When Mac finished, there was no red to be seen.
The neighbors across the street had a big nasty black German Shepherd. One day the dog came on our property and urinated a gallon or two on a bush. Mac went over and urinated after him. The dog turned back and attacked Mac. In a flash, Mac was on his back with this nasty dog at his throat. Mac never fought back. He just did not have a mean bone in him. I ran to help Mac and got that dog off him. I then put a fence around the property, in part, to protect Mac from that nasty dog.
One of the funniest incidents involved Brummer’s pups. Brummer had two huge pups (One I gave to Craig). Mac was so curious of them. When they cried, he would get all upset. When the pups started to walk, they began to think Mac was their mother. They would try and nurse off Mac. Poor Mac as these pups were after him. They had razor sharp teeth, and he would howl when they got him. One day he was painfully crying, and I went running to him. Here both pups were hanging on to his sides with their razor teeth dug into him. Ole Mac just stood there crying in pain. I gently loosened the pups from him. After that, I had to set up a fence to keep the pups away from Mac.
Mac loved car rides. He would sit up in the passenger seat with his head held high. It gave him a regal look. He would look around as you were driving. When you stopped, he would look at the vehicle next to you. People would wave and talk to him. One day, I drove off with him next to me. I did not fully close the door, as I turned the corner, Mac fell out. I was not going fast, but I was terrified he was hurt. I jammed on the breaks and ran around the van. There was Mac standing on the side of the road. I checked him over and all seemed OK. I put him back in the van and off we went, just like nothing happened.
Mac loved the ocean. Nancy would make a picnic type dinner and have the kids ready when I came home from work. We put Mac and the kids in the van and off we would go to the ocean. There was a certain point in Westhampton Beach that Mac could smell the salt air and would go wild. He knew where we were heading. At the ocean, he had a ball. He loved the water and waves and would swim out into the breakers to get a ball. He had no fear of the ocean. I loved going to the ocean just because of Mac. Mac never tired of playing ball; he would fetch a ball or stick all day long.
Mac grew old and couldn’t get around. He was in pain. This condition came on him fast. I took him to the vet (can’t remember his name but he was in Setauket, NY. I had complete trust in this vet.) I had to carry Mac into the van, as he had no strength. I went into the vet’s and explained his condition. Two workers came out with a small stretcher and very gently put ole Mac on it and carried him in and laid him on a table.
The vet came and examined Mac. He was very kind and to this day I remember that vet. He said that Mac’s kidneys had failed, and he did not have much longer to live. The vet said he could keep Mac alive for a couple weeks to a few months, but that was the best he could do. I asked the vet what he would do, and he suggested putting Mac down.
Never did I dream I’d have to make a decision like this. I was speechless, and asked the vet if he would leave me and Mac along for a few minutes. The vet went into the next room. I told Mac I loved him and wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. I put my hand under Mac’s chin and held his head. I looked him the eyes and said, “Mac do you want to live?” He lifted his head out of my hand and looked away to my right. I put my hand again under his chin and looked him in the eye once again. I asked the same question. He again took his head out of my hands and looked to my right. I said OK Mac; I’ll do the best for you.
I called the vet back in and said it is time to put him down. The vet once again said it was the only thing to do. The vet got a needle. I still had my hand under Mac’s chin. I gently held his chin. The vet put the needle in his back someplace and Mac’s head just slowly fell. I held him all the way down until the table. I looked in his eyes all the way down. On the bottom his eyes looked just like when it started. There was no indication he had passed away. The vet got his scope and listed to Mac’s heart. He then said Mac had passed away. I started to shake and cry. Mac was my friend not just a dog.
The vet said the law required that he had to cremate Mac. I told him there was lots of land on my farm and asked if he could be buried on the farm. He asked how much land, and I said three acres. He agreed. Together we put Mac in a plastic bag.
The vet put his hand on my shoulder and said, “When the Good Lord made dogs it wasn’t with a long life span,” and “remember him as your friend.” I went to pay and could not. This had traumatized me. I had to give the permission to euthanize one of my best friends. He was not just a dog but part of the family. Mac was like one of my children. I took the check book out and started to write. Tears flowed and covered the check. I asked his assistant to fill out the check which she did. Alone, I carried Mac and placed him in the back of the van.
I was crying so hard I had to stop driving a few times and pull over to the side of the road. I got home and Nancy and the kids greeted me. Everyone started crying. I asked them to go inside. I buried Mac just outside the fence that surrounded the back of the house. I buried him next to Scottie.
If you do not love dogs I guess what I wrote was nonsense or foolish. I love dogs and this traumatized me. Dogs feel our love. There is a special bonding between people and dogs. They feel our love and we theirs. They become part of the family. Anyone that mistreats a dog, I think something is wrong with them. My dad told me not to trust anyone who mistreats a dog. I held this belief all my life. I could never be a friend of someone who mistreated a dog.
Scottie: 1981-84, Mutt mostly Scot Terrier. Small and black in color. Outstanding characteristic: Mischievous, fun, and stubborn.
Scottie! Wow, he just exploded into our lives. One day, he just ran into our house. It was during the Summer and we had the front door open and he popped Scottie. I have no idea where he came from. He was young and had no identification. Instantly, he became part of the family. Because he looked so much like a Scot Terrier, naturally we called him Scottie. He was full of life and lots of fun to be around. He was by far the most stubborn dog I had. He was very smart and stubborn which was a nasty combination.
When I was driving, Scottie would stand on the back seat, lean forward and rest his head on my shoulder. I’d drive all around with Scottie’s head resting on my right shoulder. He loved to go for rides. He just loved to be with us.
He loved the kids, and Nancy would walk him and the kids to school. He found the way to the school which was big trouble. We let him out in the morning, but he refused to come back in. He would wait outside for the kids and then go a head of them to the school. One day, he went into the school and ran through the halls! I would let him out real early and then get him back in so he would not be able to follow the kids. He got smart to that and no matter how early I let him out; he refused to come back in the house.
He then started to stay out at night. He would bark and bark all night long. I remember wanting to club him. I was upset with him staying out and barking. I would lay in bed hearing him bark. He seemed to be out of control. At this time, we had about two dozen chickens. One day, Nancy said most of our chickens were missing. I did a head count and about half were gone. There were raccoons in the area, and I figured they were the chicken bandits.
I bought a have-a-heart trap and set it up where the chickens entered the coop. The first night I caught our cat. The second night, there was a loud commotion outside and here Scottie had two raccoons on the run. That was why he barking all night long! He was battling the raccoons! I named the raccoons Bonnie and Clyde.
The next night I made sure Scottie was inside. I set the trap with a raccoon’s banquet. I listened and heard a commotion. Scottie and I ran out and into the coop and here was Clyde, a huge male raccoon. Clyde was huge because he feasted on my chickens. He had pushed the trap aside and tore the wing off my favorite chicken. Yeah, we named our chickens. This one was old and we named her Grandma.
Scottie was going wild. He was now face to face with his public enemy number one. The raccoon was huge, at least three times Scottie’s size. I feared he’d kill Scottie. I tried to get Scottie out of the coop, but he wanted to tangle with that raccoon real bad. All I could do was try and keep Scottie away and keep the raccoon blinded with my flash light. The raccoon was really agitated and was prancing back and forth.
Finally, the raccoon went out of the coop. Scottie was waiting outside and ambushed it. The raccoon was three time Scottie’s size, but that didn’t matter. The best way to describe what Scottie did was a football tackle. Scottie hit that raccoon at full speed, and I could hear the collision. The raccoon ran into the brush and went for the trees with Scottie after him in attack mode. Even with my flash light I could not follow them but only heard the action. Then just silence. The raccoon went up a tree. Scottie was running around barking up at the trees. I searched and searched but could not find the raccoon.
For the longest time I hunted that coon. Finally, way up at the top of a tall Long Island pine tree, two red eyes were looking at me. This is a real smart raccoon as it was hugging the tree. One blast of the shotgun was all it took to put Clyde out of action. Bonnie never did come back.
After work the next day, I hacked my way through the brush and found the raccoon. I dragged him out. Scottie got real low and slowly approached Clyde. He’d sniff and jump back. He’d move closer, sniff, and jump back. Then Scottie got close and sniffed the coon all over realizing it was dead.
The battle was over and the chickens were once again safe. Scottie was a hero after all. He was absolutely fearless to attack that raccoon. I’ll never forget the sound of that impact when Scottie hit Clyde at full speed. The battle was on.
Scottie would never listen and would wonder around the property and sometimes out on the road. One day a car came down our driveway. I went outside to see who it was. When I went outside, there was Scottie sitting by the door. He did not look right. The people asked if that was my dog. I said yes. They said a car had just hit him and they were eyewitnesses. They said Scottie was standing in the middle of the road, on the line between lanes, and a car purposely swerved and ran him over. Scottie staggered up the driveway. They followed him all the way to the house and were angry at the driver who did this.
I looked Scottie over and he looked fine. He as not acting right, but he looked fine. I thanked the people and then took Scottie right to the vet. The vet looked him over and said he appeared to be OK. We left him with the vet. Later in the afternoon, the vet called and said he had bad news. Scottie had passed away. He had internal injuries and when his blood pressure rose, he bleed to death. The vet allowed me to take Scottie’s body, and I buried him in the back yard just outside the fence.
I felt a lot of guilt about Scottie’s death because he was loose. But, he was so stubborn. He would listen to no one. He was not a house dog but loved the outside. Scottie was so much fun. Who could kill a pet like that? What kind of heartless person could swerve to kill a small dog on the road? I wonder if that driver has ever thought about killing Scottie. Maybe God used this cruel act to convict him of his hardness of heart, and the need for the Lord Jesus to soften it.
Mac died soon after Scottie. I buried them both next to each other right across from the Center Moriches High School off Frowein Ave. I did not have a street address at this time.
About a year later, we moved to Tennessee. When driving down the driveway for the final time, I looked to my left where they were buried. The last thing I thought of was Ole Mac and Scottie. They were such fun and good friends.
Taffy: 1985-96, Pedigree Welsh Corgi. Pedigree name: Taffy of the Moriches. Outstanding characteristic: She was a lady almost dignified. Nickname: Her ladyship.
Taffy was named after Nancy. One of Nancy’s nicknames as a kid was Taffy. We lived in Center Moriches, NY at the time, this she was named Taffy of the Moriches. I took the deaths of Scottie and Mac very hard. I did not want another dog right away. After a while, Nancy began talking about the Welsh Corgi breed. She had been reading about these type dogs. I never heard of this breed and did some research on it.
I found a breeder in Dix Hills, NY. She had some pups available so I went over to her house for a look. She had about four left and let me pick one. I chose Taffy. Taffy at this time was about two weeks old. We figured that around Christmas would be the best time to take her. I said nothing to Nancy about this and kept it as a surprise.
We decided to visit Nancy’s parents in West Virginia for Christmas. I called them and told them about the surprise. The breeder’s place was on the way to West Virginia. I told Nancy I had to stop at someone’s home to drop off something for work. I went into the house, and the breeder had Taffy wrapped like a Christmas present. I went back to car and told Nancy she had to see something in the house. Nancy came in and saw the Corgis pup. The breeder was holding Taffy. Nancy pointed and said a Corgi pup! I told her it was hers. She was so excited that she didn’t even hear me say it was hers. She asked if she could hold the pup and I said yes, it was yours. Nancy was dumbfounded. What a surprise Taffy was.
Taffy turned out to be a lady. She was very big for a Corgi, but always a lady. Her ears never stood up like a normal Corgi. They flapped over and hung by the side of her face. Taffy loved to play ball and would play soccer with the kids. My memories of her are always linked to the kids. Nancy and the kids took her for obedience training and no way. Taffy was not going for that.
She was smart, real smart. She knew we hated her to drink out of the toilet bowl. When she wanted water, she would go into the bathroom and threaten to drink out of the bowl! She would look back at us with a smirk on her face like she was saying: See what I’m about to do! We would quickly get fresh water for her to drink.
I let her out at night and often she would not come back in. I would call and call and nothing. It turned out she was in the woods just outside the house and did not want to come in. I would call Taffy, treat for you, and then she would come running. She would come for the treat and nothing else. She went every where with us and was just part of the family. What a nice loving dog she was.
Oh, one thing about Taffy. She loved the winter. There was a small hill a short way from our front door. When there was snow, Taffy loved to get on her back and slide down the hill! It was amazing to watch her play sled with the kids.
Old man age caught up with her. She became sick. The vet did not know what was wrong, but she was failing. She went fast. She was having trouble and was in discomfort one night. I was going to take her to the vet the next day. I dreaded this, because it surely meant putting her down.
She was in such discomfort that I stayed up with her all night. Toward daybreak, she had trouble breathing. I picked her up and held her in my arms, petted, and talked to her. It was in the basement, not more than five feet from where I’m writing this. As I held her, she passed away.
I waited a while to make sure she had passed away and carried her to the pine tree line in front of my house at 311 Cocolamus Creek Rd, Millerstown, PA. I buried her in line with the trees. I buried her close to her son, Bart. I was so happy she had died in my arms on her own, and I didn’t have to give that dreadful order to the vet.
Bart: 1987-94. Pedigree Welsh Corgi, light tan in color just like his mother. Pedigree name: Mac’s Bartimaeus. Outstanding Characteristic: Intelligence and peacemaker. Nickname: Bartie.
Bart was Taffy’s son. Taffy had a litter in Tennessee, and we chose Bart from it. I named him after the blind Bible character named Bartimaeus. I just thought it was a unique name. When Bart was born we were in the process of moving to Harrisburg, PA. We had to delay our move until Bart’s was old enough to travel. Dogs come first.
What a wonderful dog he was. He was so smart and learned trick after trick. He was very close with my son John. John taught him all sorts of tricks like closing the door. If you asked Bart to close the door, he would get behind it and stand on his hind legs. He would then hop, push against the door and close it.
The greatest thing about Bart was his greeting. When we would come home, he would greet us at the door and say “hello!” I am not making this up. The entire family was a witness to this. He would twist his head and make a sound which clearly came out as “hello.”
He was also a great peacemaker. He would not tolerate any loud noise or fighting. Bart would get between whoever was yelling and his presence would stop the yelling. He wouldn’t bark or do anything but just stand there. He took on a humanness. There was something about him that made you feel he could understand us as humans. He was like no other dog I had. He was an amazing dog.
Like Taffy, all my memories of Bart are connected with the kids. He would go swimming with them and hikes. I do not have a great number of individual things to write about Bart, but that does not truly reflect on how special this dog was. The dog would amaze me every day how smart and human like he was. Bart was very special like Mac. I think Bart and Mac were very similar.
One day Bart started coughing. That is not good when dogs so this. I took him right the vet. It turned out to be throat cancer. I took him to a specialist in Philadelphia but the veterinarian could do nothing for him. The tumor was growing and choking him.
The dreaded day came and the vet had to put him down. I remember what happened with Mac so I paid the vet in advance. I asked the vet to take one last look at his throat to make sure there was no hope. I held Bartie and the vet looked. He said there was no hope. I told him to put Bartie down. That was the last thing I said to the vet. I held Bart in my arms and the vet gave him the shot. I felt the life go out of him. The vet checked to make sure Bart had passed away.
I buried him in front of the house in Millerstown, at the pine tree line. Some years later, I would bury his mother near him. The trees I buried them between are gone now. A bug killed them. I do not know exactly where I buried the dogs. When I cut the grass or walk in that area, I wonder where they are buried. Like all my other dogs, I don’t forget them.
Buddy: 1994-95. Pedigree: English Staffordshire Bull Terrier. Chestnut red. Pedigree name: Buddy (Can’t remember the rest) Outstanding characteristic: crazy.
I worked with a man named Tony Vuich. Tony loved dogs and was a virtual walking canine encyclopedia. He raved about the Staffy Bull Terriers and would tell me story after story about these dogs. Bart had passed away and I was looking for a second dog. So based on all Tony had to say about the Staffy Terriers, I found a pup in Lazella, GA.
Buddy came via airplane as a young pup. Everything was fine with him at first. He was great friends with John. Then as he got older it was clear he thought he was in charge of the house with Nancy. He became very jealous of her, and it got to the point he would charge anyone who got close to her.
One day John was playing on the floor and Nancy and Buddy were on the couch. John came close to Nancy. Buddy jumped off the couch and cut John near the lip. That was the final straw. I called the breeder who agreed to take Buddy back. It was very sad, because except when he was with Nancy, he was a nice dog.
Toby: 1992 to 2006. Pedigree Bassett Hound, tan and white. Pedigree Name: Unknown. Outstanding characteristic: A number one character. Nickname: The Big Boy, King of Beasts.
Nancy worked with a woman who owned Toby. She did not want him. One day, Nancy just came home with him. He was three years old at this time. He was really something. He was very big for a Bassett Hound, and had the long drooping ears and sad eyes. There are so many stories about Toby as he truly was a character.
He loved Nancy and like Buddy would attack if I came near him. I found out later the previous owner had mistreated him. The dog was full of fear. I tried everything to make nice with him. I would give him treats. He would eat it, and then try to bite me at the same time. I was determined to win his love.
Toby was especially mean near his bed. If you went near him when he was on his bed, it was instant war. We had his bed in our bedroom. One night I got up for a bathroom run and came close to Toby. He charged off his bed and tried to bite me. That was the end of the line and I had enough. I don’t know if what I did next was correct, but it worked. I grabbed him by the neck and tail and body slammed him on the rug. I yelled you bad boy, this is my house and you won’t do this to me.
Ole Toby crawled out of the bedroom and down the hall toward the living room. I was hot after him. When we got to the kitchen, I stopped him and got a dog treat. He gulped it down along with a second one. This time he didn’t try to bite my hand. From that day on, he never again tried to bite or growl at me. I did not hurt him, just told him I was boss and his nonsense had to stop. Toby and I became great friends.
Toby loved to eat and many of the stories about him revolve around food. One day, I was in the house and heard this awful noise in the garage. I ran out and there was Toby crying and carrying on because he could not get the lid off the dog food. I keep the dog food in a garbage can in the garage. He wanted to snack but could not get the lid off. He was frustrated and had his teeth on the lid trying to rip it up and off! He was so upset his teeth were chattering! I just laughed and laughed at him.
Toby again was carrying on in the garage so I ran out. This time a woodchuck had gotten into the garage and Toby was warning us there was an intruder. He had the woodchuck cornered and was barking. I took Toby in the house and then open the garage back door. It took a while but was finally able to get the woodchuck out. I watched it run off our property to the neighbor’s below us.
After about 10 minutes, I let Toby out. He sniffed all over the garage and followed the scent out the door. I watched as he made a zigzag movement and followed the direct path of the woodchuck. He went into the woods at the exact spot of the woodchuck. He would not listen and come back. I