Katie

My dog that I grew up with as a child was Katie, our golden retriever.  She was about as loyal of a dog as anybody could possibly wish for.  She was, essentially, our other mother when mom was at work.  Every morning when we would walk up to the bus stop, Katie was right by our side which happened to be right by a somewhat busy street.  Didn't matter to her.  She stayed with us until the bus arrived.  When it did arrive, Katie would sit and watch us get on the bus and she would literally stay there until she saw that we were all seated.  Then she would slowly walk away down back to our house or wherever she went until we got home.  When we were on our way home, she could hear the bus and she'd be at the bus stop waiting for us to walk us home.  Best. Dog. Ever.  She was also basically the neighborhood dog.  Everyone knew Katie and loved her.  She was kind and very social with people and with other animals.  Every once in a while she'd poop in someone else's yard which probably wasn't cool, but she pretty much claimed that whole area as her home.  Katie would walk with my brothers and I and friends to the park by our house.  Hardly ever leashed because she never left our side.  One of her favorite things to do at the park was to play fetch with her tennis ball.  Of course!  What started out as a lime-yellow, was ultimately a slimy brownish by the end of play time.  Her other favorite thing was climbing up the old-school ladder that led to the slide.  She'd be right behind or in front of one of us while she climbed straight up.  She'd position herself at the top of the slide with all four legs pressed against the sides of the metal slide and WHOOSH, down she'd go like a pro!  And she was!  She did this constantly.
She had crappy teeth because her "toys" were rocks.  She'd been hit by a car and walked away from it. Our neighbor didn't see her when she decided she wanted to stop by and say hi when he was practicing his golf swing and caught her right in the head.  She was freakin' unstoppable!!!  Until, of course, old age caught up to her and she ended up getting sick with cancer.  It was the first time I had been to a vet for a pet to put them down.  To be with my family to voluntarily help my dog, our friend, die.  I remember being in the room and Katie was lying down and my parents and brothers were there.  The moment the nurse came in with the syringe full of pink liquid and walked closer to Katie, I bolted out of the vet's office and out to our van as fast as I could in hysterical tears.  I just couldn't say goodbye.  I felt bad for abandoning her and my family, but for me...I couldn't do it.  My mom came to the van before the rest of the family to check on me and talk me through how peaceful it was and how much better it was for Katie.  Geez.  Good memories laced with a sad one.  Anyway, Katie was the kind of dog any kid would be lucky to have.  I know my family was.

Honey-Baby-Joey

When I was in Preschool, I had Mrs. Morris.  My very first crush was on a boy named Joey.  My friend Sarah and I called him Honey-Baby-Joey, because of course that's how adults talk.  Poor kid was horribly harassed by us, but it was love after all!!  Anyway, one thing that I remember that looking back I thought was brilliant, was my teacher made these beautiful mailboxes for each of us.  We weren't allowed to take them home until we could recite our address and phone number to our teacher without looking.  I remember looking at mine hanging from the wall and Mrs. Morris running up in my view (she was quite tall) and said, "No looking. But can you tell me your address and phone number?"  And right then, I gave her both without skipping a beat and was handed my mailbox.  I hope my mom still has that somewhere, because it was something so special to me to memorize that.  In fact, I shared the story with Farrah's teachers and they worked on making sure all the kids knew their address and phone numbers.  Farrah knows hers!

Early Memory of Mine

I remember living in the yellow house above the property where we were building the home I grew up in.  It had green shag carpet.  REAL shag carpet.  I don't even believe it had padding underneath it.  I remember I'd run my small fingers through the carpet as if I was trying to get the tangles out.  I don't remember this, but I was told we had a "rake" for the carpet.  That's just weird.  I also have a memory of being sent to my room that was in a corner of the house and having one of my many, many temper tantrums.  I know now what for (probably for pooping in the front lawn as a means to make a point to my mother for making me do something I didn't want to do or something stupid like that - just like any 2 year old would do), and my dad walked in with the film recorder.  Is that what they were even called back then?  I've seen the film when I'm crying and trying to pull myself together, but what I remember in that moment when dad was walking in was me being embarrassed that this tantrum and cry-fest I'd been having would be documented forever.  A little like right now.  It made me have to act "normal" because no one wants to be on film screaming, crying, and flailing about unless it's in a script and they're getting paid for it.  Pretty sure that's not what I was thinking at that precise moment, however.

Why I Am Doing This...

I've decided to type out some of my reflections from the course of my life.  There are things that will pop in my mind from time to time that are stories from when I was 4 to when I was 14 and all hold some sort of significance to me and who I am.  I like the idea of people in my family and in my life knowing some of the fun things that I like to reflect on as either being important turning points or just funny things that might bring a smile.  Most of these stories will be "you had to be there" but they're old stories.  Also, I want my children and grandchildren to know as much as they can about all that I can possibly remember. I'm 35 now.  What if in 30 years I'm diagnosed with dementia or alzheimer's?  I'd have nothing to leave behind in the form of my past.  But I'm using this blog as a tool to journal the life that I lived and have loved and at times, perhaps hated.  Not predicting some crappy disease for myself, but who knows?  I'll begin as the memories start to pour in...