I guess mom and dad thought Gypsy was such a perfect dog name they used it again. We called this dog Gyp – she was the first family dog my siblings and I shared and can remember together.
It’s not nice to talk trash about anybody’s mother, human or dog, but Gyp’s mother must have been a tramp. Gyp was born down the street at a neighbor’s house – she was one of eight or nine puppies of questionable lineage. We used to watch the neighbors parade the puppies up the street to run on the open acreage of the prairie. The puppies’ mother was a pure bred Springer Spaniel, their supposed father was a short haired English Pointer. Half the puppies were the image of the black lab who lived on the street behind us.
Us kids would tumble out of the house every time the puppies walked by. I don’t know a person who can resist puppy breath or puppy tails or puppy kisses. They were all adorable and we each picked out our favorite, we ended up adopting dad’s.
Gyp had a fenced backyard and mom had a garden. Gyp spent a lot of time in trouble. Our fence was about six feet tall – almost impossible to jump but fairly easy to tunnel under. Gyp spent a lot of time exploring the prairie. The prairie was a vast ocean of opportunity for a puppy who loved to roll in questionable substances. Gyp got a lot of baths. Gyp was a handful.
I remember the day my mom reached the end of her tether. Dad was out of town when she called the SPCA and had them drive Gyp to a farm in Bowness, 30 miles away. I’m pretty sure mom’s second thoughts started arriving as soon as Gyp was out of sight. She had four crying children and had to figure out how she was going to explain to dad why the camel’s back had finally broken.
By supper time the next day our faces were covered with salty streaks and we were all still sniffing. Mom had made pancakes for dinner and we were pushing islands of crispy batter around pools of syrup on our plates. The first scratch at the back door was tentative, the bark that followed was not. Gyp had found her way home across miles of brittle prairie – obviously pausing occasionally to roll in a fragrant treat. She stunk, but she was back. Mom made her her own special pancake and tied her in the landing to wait for dad to get home to bath the dog again.
Gyp had a tail like a whip and used it mercilessly whenever she was happy, which was pretty much all the time. The tip of her tail was white – it waved like a flag as she raced through the tall prairie grass. She had more energy than the combined ruckus of the children who ran after her. She was about as perfect a pup any of our imaginations could have conjured. Dad had a good eye when it came to choosing puppies – we all loved Gyp like crazy.
Gyp made the move wth us when dad was transferred to Windsor. She continued to find disgusting things to roll in, this time in the open sewage ditches that meandered through the city. Dad bought clippers and shaved Gyp to almost naked – I suppose it made hosing the guck off the dog from a distance easier.
After five years of clipping and hosing dad was transferred to Vancouver. We were all growing up and more of a challenge to re-settle. Mom and dad bought a hobby farm in South Surrey and planted their teenagers and dog on two acres. It didn’t take long for us to acquire horses, chickens, ducks, geese and eventually a couple of calves. Gyp was in smelly heaven for the rest of her days.
She was a good dog and an even better friend – Gyp could keep a secret and always had an open ear. Lonely kids could cuddle her for hours and she never complained. She broke a lot of hearts the day dad drove her to the vet for the final time. She had suffered through her last Christmas with the aid of painkillers and pats – we all knew the end was drawing near. It was a terrible day – we were all limp and broken. Even our stoic mother was overcome. “There are people who pass through this world who don’t garner such grief,” she said as she buried her face in her hands. The dog she had once banished to Bowness had come home to break her heart in the end.
Gyp and I in Calgary – puppy kisses
Gyp in Windsor