Yesterday, for no reason, I started thinking about my dog Pup. That was his name; I never gave him another because he never grew to be a dog. His mother was a little black dog that showed up one day at Johnson's Store where I worked. I began to feed her and take up time with her and she made that her home.
When she had a litter I chose one and he became my dog, really attached to me. I was gone to the navy for more than two years but when I returned he and I resumed our friendship. I set out to return to LSU after a visit home, walking to McIntire to thumb a ride to Minden and then to take the train to Baton Rouge. Pup walked with me, refusing to go back home. He accompanied me across Highway 80 and stood beside me as I attempted to get a car to stop. For some reason, maybe I made a move toward the road, Pup put his two front feet on the pavement. A car swerved and hit him, killing him instantly.
I felt as if I had a hole in my heart, but there was nothing I could do. I caught a ride and from the train station phoned home to tell my folks about the tragedy. When I got to Baton Rouge I heard from the family that Daddy had found Pup's body and buried him. We had other dogs later, but they belonged to the family. Pup was my dog and I grieved for him and never became attached that way to another dog.
When she had a litter I chose one and he became my dog, really attached to me. I was gone to the navy for more than two years but when I returned he and I resumed our friendship. I set out to return to LSU after a visit home, walking to McIntire to thumb a ride to Minden and then to take the train to Baton Rouge. Pup walked with me, refusing to go back home. He accompanied me across Highway 80 and stood beside me as I attempted to get a car to stop. For some reason, maybe I made a move toward the road, Pup put his two front feet on the pavement. A car swerved and hit him, killing him instantly.
I felt as if I had a hole in my heart, but there was nothing I could do. I caught a ride and from the train station phoned home to tell my folks about the tragedy. When I got to Baton Rouge I heard from the family that Daddy had found Pup's body and buried him. We had other dogs later, but they belonged to the family. Pup was my dog and I grieved for him and never became attached that way to another dog.
Another terribly sad story! Did anything happy ever happen with animals on the farm? Like, saving some cute baby animal and then it actually growing into an adult and living a long, satisfied life with y'all? They all seem to have lived and died so tragically!
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