6 of 33

Write now Article Tools

She was a thoroughbred Boxer, AKC registered, and Pam's Dad had gotten her at a rock-bottom cost because someone had clipped her tail incorrectly. The name on her papers was Princess Pugnacious; the Jurcek family called her Pug. She was well trained, both in standard obedience and special tricks. Pam's brothers were quick to show her off to visitors.
"Pug, Say your prayers," Perry would coax. And she would put her front paws on the Early American sofa, and bring her heavy, black muzzle down to rest on them a perfect pose of a canine in prayer. She'd barely get a "good girl" before Derrick, Pam's other brother would shriek from the kitchen "Pug, come here girl, come here! Watch this! Watch this!" and as the amazed guests gathered in the kitchen, he'd put a piece of hot dog from his lunch on the kitchen floor. "She won't eat anything until we tell her it's OK!" Amazingly, Pug sat, brown eyes moving hopefully from Derrick to the morsel until he said "OK, Pug, Eat!"

Eventually, Pam's mom would say. "Alright, now, let's put the dog outside." And one of them would take Pug outside and clip her to the six foot chain that was attached to the corner of the modest suburban rancher. There she would remain the rest of the afternoon, while I played in the basement with Pam and her brothers. I, along with everyone else, would forget about Pug.
Until it was time to leave. Now, I'd have to get past that dog to get home. Well trained tricks aside, I was seriously afraid of that dog. It took every ounce of ten-year old bravery I could muster to use the kitchen steps whenever Pug was out there on her chain. I knew the chain just barely allowed her to come to the edge of the steps. But I was also convinced that one day I'd be coming or going, and she'd break free and grab my leg for lunch.
If she'd been another type of dog, I might not have felt any fear. I had owned a German Shepherd. I was friends with most of the dogs in my neighborhood. I pored over dog magazines and books with a fervent wish for a collie, or a beagle or even a St Bernard. I was a dog person.
But I had skipped over the Boxers. For one thing, they didn't seem too attractive an animal, with their wrinkles and stocky build. Listening to Pam's dad talk about the 120 pounds of pressure a boxer had in its jaws and that they were bred for fighting, didn't help win my confidence. Pug was just plain scary to me, no matter how well she performed for company.

I was one of the kids that resided in the

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Essays: Childhood?
We want to hear your view. Write now!