April 20, 2012

• Chiggers The Dog

          CHIGGERS

   

      Folks on here will talk about their pets from time to time, both past and present. The sadness of losing one or the antics and joys of having one. I don’t care how old you get, and I can attest to that, you always hold a special place in your heart for pets of your youth.

  Chiggers was his name. The breeding of my dog was something of a genetic train wreck. He had a lot of beagle and maybe some goat too, but all and all he was mostly just brown. He never learned any tricks but he amazed us with magic…….in that more substance came out his butt than ever went into his mouth and the yard was his primary depository. Dad often stepped on strategically placed piles, and Chiggers would just look the other way and pant, (dog laugh).

  Chiggers was not all that big, but he was fast and loved adventure. We lived on the edge of a forest and a few miles away was a massive cow pasture where we chased rabbits, pheasants, cows, Indians, tigers and each other. Chiggers was a chaser. I was ten and Chiggers and I were inseparable……even smelled the same most times. His other favorite pastime was chasing cars and trying to bite the tires. Chiggers was pure breed dumb.

  I would come home from school each day and Chiggers would rush me from his snoozing place under the hedge. We would roll around in the yard with him licking and yelping and me laughing my butt off. He never did that when Dad came home; he just went and took a dump in the yard so Dad would chase him. He loved to piss Dad off.

  I had an ancient aunt who would visit every few weeks. She had two female collies, but always left them at home. Chiggers would smell doggie perfume on my Dad’s aunt as soon as she got out of her car and immediately show her his doggie woody and then the leg humping would begin. Dad’s aunt would scream, Mom would quietly laugh and Dad would cuss and chase Chiggers. That was my dog’s other problem…..he was a love hound! He loved anything with fur, and that included hairy legs like my great aunt. At any given time, he must have had every dog slut within fifty miles knocked up.

  In those years, the most popular brand of pet food was “left over’s“. It came in two varieties……not much and a lot. Meat loaf night Chiggers ate good, but fried chicken night he got gravy and boloney. Sometimes when my buddies would come over, I would show off my dog by tossing him a cold hotdog and letting everybody watch Chiggers swallow it whole. It was cool.

  One day, when I came home from school, Chiggers did not run out from the shadows of the hedge. I whistled, but nothing. Most would think nothing of this but my dog knew to the moment when I would be home each day and even in the rain he would wait under the hedge for me rather than his dry doghouse in the backyard. In four years, I could not remember him ever missing a day.

  Mom was sitting on the porch swing which was also unusual for that time of day. “Charlie, come over here and sit down.” My first thought was she had been snooping under my mattress again.

  “You seen Chiggers, Mom?” I asked more curious than worried when I sat down.

  “Honey, Chiggers was hit by a bread truck today.” she quietly said as she put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  My young heart seized up and my throat got so tight I couldn’t talk. It took a moment and the tears started. First me and then Mom.

  Mom had called Dad at work and told him. He said he would pick up something to bury Chiggers in and bring it home. He also asked several times was Mom sure the dog was dead. She kept saying yes and the last yes sounded a little loud to me. That evening, Dad came in the front door carrying a long box from the A&P. “This should do the job.” he said like a cold hearted undertaker.

  “It’s a banana box Dad!” I moaned.

  “So? Only thing big enough I could find, and see….you can close the top.” he said. He put the box beside the door and asked what was for supper. Mom said meatloaf and I started crying again.

  Mom had wrapped Chiggers in an old beach towel and put him in the basement. The next morning I took the banana box down to the basement and put my dog in it. I put a few of his raggedy toys, an old bone and one of Dad’s good slippers in with him and then closed it up and sealed it with electricians tape. At the far end of the backyard, I dug a hole under a pine tree and reverently lowered Chiggers. I remember standing there and looking down at the Chiquita coffin Dad had brought home and thinking about dog heaven. Dogs had to go to heaven…….cause, who else would the dead kids have to play with?

   

  • 9:37 pm
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