In the beginning....there were dogs?

Growing up in a house where chaos and drama were the norm and being grounded and centered was something unheard of, where animals ruled and children obeyed, was a life experience with many entertaining advantages. It truly is an inspiring testimony of the resilience of children and their psyche!


For example, in my house, if you were not a dog, well, then you were merely human. Entering the house after school was a game of "Nice doggy, its OK you don't have to eat me , I live here remember?". One was not to dare to sit next to the giant dogs on the couch with out asking its permission and at any given dinner, our three large Afghan Hounds, would circle the table as my brothers and I would eat in a bit of fear that our plates of food would not survive if one even thought of getting up to go to the bathroom. The proper napkin in your lap was never a good idea, especially if you had used it properly to wipe some food off of your face, and if anyone dropped any food to the floor, everyone knew to leave it with the hound in fear of losing a limb. My mother, in love with her Hounds, assured us that they were wonderful dogs! Well, it was all fun and games until several friends and family got their faces and hands bitten off ! Just kidding about the bitten off thing, they were just deeply punctured.



And then there was the parakeet known as Fonzie, (yes, Happy Days was the hit sitcom) sitting in a cage in the kitchen dinning room, who's only words were taught to him for several weeks by my mother. It was always fun for us, when our friends came over, to watch their faces when from the dark corner of the beautiful fern filled kitchen, in a high pitched parrot voice, came the chirp "Fuck You-Fuck You". And for years .... no matter how many times we heard it we always ended up laughing hysterically. We were actually grateful at times that my grandmother was almost deaf, for she would not have approved. When her and my grandfather would come for Shabbat dinner on Friday nights we would all have to talk so loud for her to hear us, that papa never heard the bird swearing quietly to itself in the corner. Poor Fonzie, he met his maker the day we woke up and found him chirping his favorite swear words, on his side, at the bottom of his cage. It turned out he had some how managed to eat both feet off during the night, his final words,coincidentally ,were actually quite appropriate.



Years later, my mother decided after 4 Afghans and a litter of 7, against the Afghan Hound as a family pet, and we rid our house of them and adopted a wonderful Golden Retriever who the family named Ashley. However, about a year later my mother decided that her name was now Mork, and try as we might to rebel against any name change at that late of date, Mork-A-Me was her name. She even had a theme song that my mother sang to her often...."shes a Mork-A-Me girl, with a Mork-A-Me smile....." really quite catchy as I can still sing it today! Mork also ruled the roost, although far more playful. She did not hurt anyone, she just ate a few couches, shoes, a whole vat of Crisco, and when she was bored my mother would ask me if I had a spare pair of dirty underwear for the dog...no I am not joking.



There are many more Wild Animal stories, like when the small wiener dog Sam, spun around unexpectedly and basically exploded while my brothers and I watch television. The escapades of the nightly flying squirrel, small frogs that got sucked up in vacuum cleaners and much more....

Life lesson #1 - make life memorable, give your children something to remember. All dysfunctional, quirky family time is family time all the same.

You can find my mothers new web business Personalized Pooch for those who cherish their pets and would like to have their dogs faces on their accessories and blankets. http:.http://www.personalizedpooch.com/