Bones! When we were young, Dad brought home a Hungarian Vizsla. Her name was Sue and she was hunkered down in the right front corner of the box on Dads new 1964 Chevrolet Pickup. I might have been eight or nine back then..... Anyway Sue was our new dog. Dad got her from a friend who said she would not hunt. Sue was scared to death, a new neighborhood, somebody was playing hockey in the street with a baseball bat and a coffee can. Our neighborhood was full of boys and they were everywhere. Sue would naturally work her way into the family, destined to never ride in the camper again, that was for us four boys. She always rode up front, slept with whomever she wanted, except in Dads bed, and pretty much had run of the house. She used to make the rounds, putting each of us to sleep. Eventually she would become a very good hunting dog and very loyal to my father. She would point birds, but if you wanted them picked up, that was up to you. She would find the downed birds and point them out for you to pick up. Dad decided to have her bred and in about 1966 we took her to Belleville, where she met another Vizsla. She had a litter of 8 pups, bubbles as my brother called them. He found her during birth and ran in the house proclaiming that Sue was laying bubbles. One of those bubbles was a lot bigger than the rest. He also had a lot darker coat, a beautiful red coat. He also had a huge head and paws compared to the other pups. Mom dubbed him Red and that was his name. Red stayed with us until we relocated and a couple of years beyond that. Red was definitely my mothers dog. If she wanted him to do it and could relay that message to him, he would do it right now. Unfortunately, my father did not have the same success and he became frustrated with Red. We had paper routes then and Red would deliver with my mother. He was her constant companion, maybe that is where my addiction to dogs comes from. Red had a big head, a large frame and a lot of loose skin hanging on it, kind of like a blood hound. Mom started calling him Red Bones and eventually that turned to her nickname for him, Bones. He would come immediately if she called him, the rest of us might get him to glance our way. Dad sold him to a retired Air Force man in Washington State. They flew down and picked up Bones. Just like that he was gone from life. We never heard or saw anything of him again. For many years afterwards, I would catch Mom with a distant look in her eyes. Occasionally a tear or two, I would ask Bones? and she would nod her head or tell me another story. I am not sure she ever got over him. Mom died early in life, at age 54. I had not thought of Bones for years. Today I bought a can of Diet Coke and on the side of it read Share a Diet Coke with Mom in red letters. I am not sure how Bones came to mind, but I hope those two soul mates got together again out there someplace, somehow. In case you were wondering, I loved both of them, Mom and old Bones.
Posted on: Sat, 27 Sep 2014 01:16:25 +0000
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