Starlight, Star Bright

Star Light, Star Bright, First Star I See Tonight; I Wish I May, I Wish I Might, Have the Wish I Wish Tonight. I wish for .... A DOG!

If only this were the story of a really GOOD little girl ...

Gypsy was the ugliest dog anyone had ever seen. She was a stray, with a mixture of black, brown and white fur, medium length, and curly, with flop ears and a heavy long body on short legs; large head, just not what anyone would call a beautiful dog. Somehow her ancestors had mixed too many variables or something.

She appeared in the neighborhood and ended up on Larry's porch steps. I saw her there and coaxed her home, foot by foot, inch by inch, and fed her. Larry was FURIOUS. Mom and Dad were HORRIFIED. My sisters were ... well, I don't know how they felt at first.

THEN .... it turned out Gypsy was in the family way. In fact, in a BIG family way. Within a few weeks of her arrival in our house she gave birth in the back hall, to eleven puppies! Three were born dead. Dad buried them in the back yard, but Gypsy dug them up. Dad buried them deeper; Gypsy dug deeper. I do not know the final resting place, but it was somewhere away from our yard.

It was summertime, and we were scheduled to spend two weeks at Point Comfort, at our rented cottage. Gypsy got "boarded" at The Pound, where stray dogs were kept in captivity and probably murdered. When we came back from the cottage, Gypsy had been spayed, and there were only two puppies left. Mom and Dad said that the puppies had died. I bet they had! The puppies were then named Tarbaby and Cinderella. We found homes for them eventually and they left.

In the picture above I was one one side of Gypsy in the back yard and Robyn was on the other side. I was SO possessive of Gypsy, I cut Robyn off the photo.

Gypsy became a neighborhood icon. My parents did not think dogs needed to be restrained, so she roamed free. Every day she followed the mailman on his route. People whom I have never met fed Gypsy treats all day long, and when she got home to her meal of canned dog food, she really was not terribly interested.

Gypsy was frequently infested with fleas, and we bathed her in the basement in a galvanized wash tub, with flea shampoo. During the bath, fleas would leap off her in cascades. At one time, she got some horrible skin thing, possibly mange, and her skin and fur came off easily in smallish patches. Under the skin were squirmy things EEEUW.

One evening when we were sitting on the front porch, Gypsy came up the steps and someone said maybe she would look better with her ears standing up. I held her ears up and everyone laughed. Gypsy was hurt and humiliated, and left immediately. I felt terrible.

I told Gypsy everything. I would sit with her and tell her of my hopes and dreams, my fears and hurts. She never told my secrets. She was a very affectionate and easy-going dog, and would put up with a lot of silliness from us children.

When I left home, Gypsy stayed with the family. Years later, she was napping in the middle of the street, as was her habit, and a neighbor ran her over with their car. Mom used to tell the story that when the sheriff brought her body home, the men present removed their caps in reverence. Gypsy had gone.