My parents had a mixed breed dog before and then after I was born. The dog looked like a Cocker Spaniel.  His name was Snuffy.  My dad worked nights for a time, and my mother would be alone with Snuffy. There was a little window in our front door.  Snuffy often went to sit by the door and stare up at the little window.  He scared my mom, who imagined that someone was peeking in the window from the outside. She would drag the dog by his collar away from the door and window. He would lay down by her for mere minutes before returning to stare up at the window in the door.  He growled, too.

My dad’s brother and his wife also had a dog that looked like a Cocker. They decided to mate the two, and sure enough, there was a litter of puppies. At six weeks they sold the puppies.  They made a profit!  But, the puppies did not remotely resemble Cocker Spaniels.  One by one these mixed breed puppies were returned and the owners wanted their money back.  My dad and my uncle had already spent the money.  It was bad news.  They each had to dig deep into their pockets to refund the owners.  The owners took the money and returned the puppies one by one.

They managed to give the puppies away to good homes.  They did not mate the two dogs ever again.

I came along and as tot I played with Snuffy all of the time.  Sometimes Snuffy found himself shut up in a closet.  Tired of play, I managed to push and pull him and push him again into a closet.  My mother was busy and did not notice that the dog was missing.  Now, I think that Snuffy enjoyed his hours in closets because he was not being bothered by an irritating little girl.

Eventually the dog was discovered and sent out to the back yard to do his business. He dug big holes in my mother’s flower beds to escape the back yard.  Snuffy had a plan.  Going back into the house was not part of the plan.  My dad found bits of ugly cement blocks and tried to keep the dog from being able to dig out of the back yard.

Snuffy was always able to get out.  He probably was looking for my uncle’s dog to mate again.  He never went far from the house.  My dad would whistle to him from the front door.  Snuffy would return just so far.  We had a walkway from the sidewalk to the front porch.  Snuffy sat at the end of that walkway and would not come in.

This made my dad mad.  He called to the dog and it was no dice.  Snuffy was just out of reach.  After an hour of this charade Snuffy scratched at the front door to come in.  Still mad, my dad would punish that dog by threatening his life and limb.  This instilled a wariness in Snuffy.  The angry man would punish him “if” he obeyed and came into the house when called.

My dad thought about this and decided that he would not be angry at Snuffy after the ignored invitations to come when he was called. Snuffy crept up the walkway to the porch, climbed the stairs, and went into the open door.  My dad told him what a good dog he was between clenched teeth.  He did not say bad things to the dog, but his tone was still angry.  Snuffy could not understand English, he was, after everything was said and done, a smart dog.