My Pal Shep
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About this ebook
In 1968, the world was watching Captain Kangaroo and Dark Shadows. In Ronkonkoma, Long Island life was simple and carefree. Shep - our German Shepherd-Collie - came along at just the right time.
For pet owners and pet lovers worldwide, no explanation is necessary. A good family pet becomes part of the family, part of the fabric of our lives. Its loss can be devastating - so we celebrate our lives together, and the important role these special dogs play in them. Relive the late 1960's - their turbulent times, life in the suburbs, and an appreciation of a special time and a very special family pet.
Shep was the name of our family pet. What was yours?
Vince Iuliano
Freelance writer. Staunch crusader for truth, justice and the American Way..(writes under various names. You could be reading me right now, and not know it!)
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My Pal Shep - Vince Iuliano
One .
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We found him through word of mouth.
Mom said that one of her customers at the bank told her they had a dog who just delivered puppies, did we want to look at them?
My parents talked it over that night and of course we three waited with bated breath. The next day after my parents got home from work, we took a drive over.
It was just after 5:30 when we arrived. The afternoon sky was still light blue with very few clouds. It was the start of summer, and balmy.
The house was like any other on Long Island: an ivory ranch with a short brown-green lawn and a small backyard. A woman stood at the side of the house behind the screen door, waiting for us. My brother and sister looked at each other with suppressed excitement as little yelps and squeaks from the puppies could be heard behind the woman’s legs.
Hello there,
she said unenthusiastically as we climbed out of the back seat to join my parents at the base of her stone steps. Maybe this will work a whole lot better if I just bring them out to see you.
She scooped up three pups in her arms. Her daughter followed grudgingly with a fourth. They walked outside and put the pups on the top of the steps. Immediately they began to climb over each other for our attention. They nipped at each other’s ears and wagging tails. Yipping and whelping like wind-up toys with their pink tongues curled behind tiny sharp teeth.
Except for the fourth pup, who sort of hung back and watched his brothers and sisters perform.
It was a tough decision. The three acrobatic pups captivated we kids as they tumbled and rolled against each other for our attention. We laughed as they fell like tiny clowns into each other, rolling and tumbling in our laps.
Mother wanted us to make the final decision but it was obvious from the jump that she favored the fourth sad pup. This one needs a lot of love,
she said, scooping him up in one arm, cradling him in her arms. See how timid he looks as I brush his head ?
And it was true.
Each time Mom stroked the little pup’s head, he closed his eyes and snuggled close against her. Pretty soon we’d forgotten the clown pups and were focused on the sad little puppy in my mother’s arms.
We all agreed that this one needed more love than the others.
My father paid the woman and we got into the back seat of the car: my brother and I on window seats, sis in the middle. My mother held the small pup on her lap where it seemed to be sleeping, and we strained from the back seat to watch him the entire ride.
It was nearly dusk when we arrived home.
****
Dad went downstairs and returned with the bottom of a large corrugated box, which he had cut in half with a utility knife.
Mom raided the hall linen closet for a soft towel and some small hand towels. She took her wind-up aluminum alarm clock with its black face and the iridescent glow of its sweeping ivory hands, and wound its rear key tightly before wrapping it carefully in a towel.
In case he wakes up in the middle of the night and wants to see what time it is?
I said, ever the comedian.
The ticking sounds like a heartbeat,
Mom explained. Its reassuring to him if he wakes up and feels lonely. It reminds him of his mother’s heartbeat.
We took turns tearing up strips of newspaper and laying them inside the box.
What if he jumps out in the middle of the night?
my brother said. What if he poops on Vincent’s head?
He won’t be able to jump that high,
my mother said, ignoring his coarser line of reasoning.
My father placed the young pup inside the box and we all stood around, looking down at him. He seemed content to scramble and play in the confetti.
After an hour of watching Shep scramble and roll around in his new temporary playground, we wandered off to bed. The more we continued to excite the pup, Mom explained, the later it would take for him to get some needed rest.
What if he doesn’t fall asleep?
my sister wondered.
He’ll sleep,
Mom said. It’s been a rough day for this little guy.
We all stood around watching Shep gambol in the shredded paper. Finally it
was really time to go to bed. I was glad that tomorrow was Saturday: that
would give us plenty of time to play with our new friend.
I lay awake for what seemed like hours - eyes wide open in the dark,
listening hard for an occasional yip!
and my parent’s reassuring voices.
I heard my Dad getting ready for bed. You comin’?
he said as he stood at
the kitchen entrance. With just the stove light on, the room was in semi-
darkness. I’ll be in,
my mother said. Just a few minutes.
I’m not sure how long before I fell asleep, but when I woke it was still dark.
****
Two a.m. I decided to climb out of bed to check on the pup.
I could see down the hallway that the kitchen light was still on. I found my mother seated in a chair, the pup on her lap with a small white cloth over his eyes.
I just woke up,
I said. Thought I’d check on the pup.
He’s doing good,
my mother smiled. He was a little homesick so I thought I’d keep him company. Do you want to sit up with us?
The little dog craned his neck to