A Bare-Legged Ghost and Rudolph, Our Christmas Dog

One morning last week, Tommy told me he either dreamed it or he saw me or a bare-legged ghost. Well, that was so funny. He said he saw my bare leg or a ghost with a bare leg. He said he was not sure what he saw and did I go into the kitchen during the night. Well, I went into the kitchen when I left the living room, but not during the night. 

Since my whole leg is not showing when I am in my nightgown, we had a discussion about how much leg he saw--knee down or top of leg down. He saw from the top of the leg down--one bare leg he reiterated. 

We discuss this every day since it gives me the giggles to think of it.  Unless he went to sleep ten seconds after I left the living room and my gown was hiked up, he must have seen a bare-legged ghost

 One summer, my son who was about ten came home very upset. It seems a neighbor kid on the next block was throwing tiny kittens to a dog who would kill them.  I was upset and hugged him, told him that kids who torture animals grow up to hurt people. I told him to never go back.

Later that year between Christmas and New Year's Day, my son came in upset. It seems the same kid had claimed a little lost puppy that I refused to bring home. The kid got him from in front of our house and was headed home. I told my three kids to get in the car and instructed my son  to get his little sister in her car seat. We all ran.

The kid had not gotten far when I stopped and told him to give back our dog. He hid behind a telephone pole with the puppy. I told him to bring the dog to me, now. And, instructed my son to get the dog. Well, the kid handed it over. I told the kid never to touch our dog again. 

My plan was to take him to a shelter or advertise for the owner. I called to find the owner, but did not turn him over to anyone. But, you can imagine how the children loved the dog and begged to keep him. 

You can guess how that turned out. 

Finally, I told them to find a name. We had a dog named Puppy and a cat named Cat. So, I was adamant. After two days, I named him--Rudolph. There was outrage all around. I was again adamant. I told the children we would call him Rudy. 

They warmed to the idea several weeks after the dog knew his name. 

Now, we had two dogs and the first dog, Puppy, was so jealous.

The puppy, probably not yet 3 months old, had huge feet/paws, not a good sign. Yes, he grew up to be very large. Puppy was short and fat, a mutt with beagle ancestors. Rudy was a retriever.  He knew how to point and did so often. Once, when he was on the back porch as I put out a freshly bathed and dressed toddler, he turned and knocked her down concrete steps with his tail he wagged! 

I bathed her again, washed her hair, scraped sticks, dirt, and leaves from her mouth, dressed her again in clean clothes, and bandaged her cuts and put her out again. She tried to avoid Rudy for a long time.

One day, in the fall when the baby was the only one at home with me early in the morning, I heard her crying out, "Help, Get me out of here. HELP. I can't get out." Her voice seemed far away and I ran to the yard barefoot and in a nightgown too skimpy for the yard. 

Her voice sounded like she was inside something. Since there once was a well in the back yard and an outhouse, I was terrified. Finally, I yelled and followed her voice. She was in the doghouse and Rudy would not let her out. He kept taking his snout and pushing her back in. 

She got into the dog house several other times. I had to bathe her every time! She confessed when she was over 20 that she went in the dog house all the times other than the first because she did not like what she was wearing and wanted to change clothes!

Finally, when Rudy was grown, he decided he was going to follow us all over town. I was afraid he would be hit by a car. One day, I tried to get away, but he jumped fences keeping up with me. I drove the three blocks, straight to husband's church and ran up the front steps and let Rudy in the church. I told husband to take him to live in the country somewhere. I told him to take him home so I could leave the house.

That trip, I discussed with the children how Rudy was a country dog who was not suited to the city and not happy. So, we found a couple in the church who lived on a farm. The children did not want Rudy to be killed, so they reluctantly accepted his move to the farm. The went with their father to rehome him. When Rudy was let out of the car, the first thing he did was run jump into a lake. That proved to the children he liked it there. My children loved to swim, so I guess their dog liking to swim was good. He had never been in water before. 

He tried to get in the car when kids came home. We had promised they could visit him before we took him. When they went back to visit Rudy, he tried to get into the car and come back to his home, our home. That was heart-wrenching for all of us. But, I helped them to see he was happy and safe in the country. 

So, that is the story of Rudy, our Christmas dog. 

Did you have a Christmas dog or other animal? Did you ever have to take a dog to a farm in the country?