Flashback Friday

The Dog That Busted Out of the Mercer County Shelter

This is Lassie, but before he was Lassie he was Ringo.  I met Lassie when I went to see the current Mrs. Blythe at the Mitchell Farm outside Aledo in high school.  Here is the story of a pretty neat dog.

Before the Mercer County Animal Shelter was located at its present place about a mile outside town heading to Joy on Route 17, it was behind the Essley-Noble museum not far from the school.  One day the 'C Mrs. B' was with some pals roaming the town and came upon the old shelter.  They saw some dead dogs laying in a small pile and were  overcome by the need to save the caged residents.  Memory gets fuzzy here:  no idea how many other delinquents were involved, no mention of number of dogs saved, and no recollection of which kid was the do-gooder brains behind the break-in.

But this we do know, this little band of crusaders broke into the Shelter and saved one or more pound dogs.  One of these dogs was christened Ringo and taken home by one of Nancy's pals.  Less than pleased, however, were Nancy's pal's parents who said, "Nope", "uh-uh", "Ain't gonna happen", or words to that effect.  Phone calls were made, probably teary appeals made, and Nancy accepted the challenge of adopting Ringo, the dog that was saved from the Mercer County Shelter by a roving gaggle of youthful girls.  Back in those days, there was no concept of "no-kill", and it is likely Ringo would have ended up on that little pile of death.

Apparently Nancy's parents were OK with Ringo which was promptly renamed Lassie.  My time with Lassie was relatively short but I can say that Lassie was a good dog.  Never barked when I'd pull up (at all hours of the night, mornings especially).  As time gives way to certain family information, we can also surmise that she, Lassie, I mean was very often the only living thing on the place that was happy to see me.  Lassie would follow me/us and enjoyed the petting and attentions that came its way, and liked to camp out wherever I/we were.  Almost annoyingly so. He was ever so friendly,  and everything a good dog is.  And what is a good dog?  It's like pornography, I know when I see it.  But most good dogs are slavishly devoted.  Not the least bit intimidating, offer themselves freely and without hesitation for petting, head scratches, back rubs and neck gnashes.

Lassie also had a permanent effect on the current Mrs. Blythe's sister, Patti.  Patti graciously relayed this story about Lassie:

"It was the winter of ’62 (or maybe ’63), a typical freezing, Arctic cold Midwestern winter.  Nancy and I were on an adventure of some sort or another, trekking across the barren cornfield north of the house with our faithful four-legged friend Lassie in tow.  This was back in the good ‘ole days when fences actually existed, separating one field from another, one person’s property from their neighbors, and farm ground from the country roadways.

Anyway, suffice it to say one of the aforementioned fences presented a blockade to wherever we were headed.  Of course, Nancy and I had been able to scale fences virtually since learning to walk, but it presented a dilemma as to how Lassie was going to circumvent the obstacle and continue with us on our journey. 

My memory gets a bit foggy at this point, both from the extreme cold of the day and the ensuing physical trauma, but I’m sure it was Nancy’s idea that after she made the crossing, I would hoist Lassie up and over the fence and she would catch him.  Like most childhood plans, it seemed like a good idea at the time and all went well until the actual hand-off.   In mid-air, Lassie decided flying wasn’t for dogs and the flaying paws in search of solid ground found my upper lip instead.  The adventure ended with Nurse Frances applying a shot of penicillin to my backside and Doc Robinson slapping a bridge bandage on the gaping hole between my nose and mouth. 

Always remember that when skin is extremely cold, it will split open quite easily and bleed profusely. 

Always keep the family dog’s rabies vaccine certificate close at hand.

Always say it was your sister’s idea."

After having had 2 Boxers growing up in Seaton, I wasn't used to the long hair and longer nose.   He was not as tall as a AKC Collie, but the coloring was good and the looks seemed full blooded.  Lassie's  good looks certainly didn't give any hint that he was just a pound pooch.  That's him in the picture above, and again, no idea as to when it was taken.

I can certainly see why he was named Lassie, what with a certain TV star of the same name broadcast into our homes every Sunday.  Different colorings perhaps but same regal good looks.  Dogs are timeless.  I suppose cats are too, but since I don't like cats, they get little or no good press on this blog.   Dogs instantly bring a man of any age back to being a boy again.  You wanna be 10 again, get a dog.

And so, the Collie that was busted out of the shelter became a farm dog, and friend (and ally) to this writer a long time ago as I was clumsily entering another phase of my life.  It was a kind of temporary gateway into adulthood, grown-up feelings and there to welcome me was the friendly, pretty pooch that left a scar on my future sister-in-law, and a warm memory on my heart. A tip for all you would-be Lothario's out there:  woo the dog and you win the girl.

Lassie lived a long good life and his end was not only appropriate, but gently romantic as well.  Being a farm dog, Lassie would follow Nancy's Dad around when he did his work and chores.  A companion to all the members of the family and ready for any adventure, Lassie would be involved in whatever was going on.  One day, as Nancy's Dad was going down the gravel road and with Lassie trailing the tractor in a trot, he simply stopped trotting.  He died of old age doing what he loved most:  being there.

Real time is measured by the ticking of a clock.  For most of us, time is measured better by the people and events that come in and out of our lives.  Lassie came into mine, and then left.  It was a good time.