Was my dad's mutt, Tuffy, who lived with my grandparents in a pen outside the house as early as I can remember, since we lived on the mainland until I was 7. He was a fierce, aggressive guard dog who had been trained to attack trespassers but he attended very politely for the long torturous minutes that I spent as a child sitting outside his pen singing songs I'd made up in my head to him.
I'll never forget how he gave me his full attention. Seriously, no one else in my family could stand my singing. At 5 years of age, I knew very clearly that I knew I was adored at least by Tuffy. I mean, he liked my singing.
He was only let out on a heavy chain. With me he was the gentlest, quietest companion but once when my parents' friends' son, whom I was playing with, dared to touch me on my shoulder, Tuffy attacked him. I never heard him roar like that; it was terrifying. No one got hurt but it was very scary. Retrospectively I know that Tuffy was being protective of me, & it's unfortunate that he hadn't been socialized but people didn't do that in those days.
When he got sick the first time I was hysterical. I must have been 8 or 9. He'd fallen down in his pen & was having difficulty moving around. I was in a state of panic. He recovered, & all was well again.
Then I got older & other things became more important. Tuffy passed away at the age of 17, in his pen. My grandfather buried him in the backyard under the mountain apple tree. I wasn't particularly sad. I thought I should be but I wasn't.
Now, over 20 years later, I feel very sad & I miss him. I think of how crappy that pen must have been to get old & decrepit in. I never visited him in the last years, never came back to sing to him. When my parents' later Akita, Shizuko, was dying she waited for me to finally be able to visit the house; I spent the evening with her & she passed on a few hours after I went home. I wonder if Tuffy was waiting but never received his visit, & I feel terrible about it.
On a side note, today I am a professional singer. I probably have Tuffy to thank for it.
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I'll never forget how he gave me his full attention. Seriously, no one else in my family could stand my singing. At 5 years of age, I knew very clearly that I knew I was adored at least by Tuffy. I mean, he liked my singing.
He was only let out on a heavy chain. With me he was the gentlest, quietest companion but once when my parents' friends' son, whom I was playing with, dared to touch me on my shoulder, Tuffy attacked him. I never heard him roar like that; it was terrifying. No one got hurt but it was very scary. Retrospectively I know that Tuffy was being protective of me, & it's unfortunate that he hadn't been socialized but people didn't do that in those days.
When he got sick the first time I was hysterical. I must have been 8 or 9. He'd fallen down in his pen & was having difficulty moving around. I was in a state of panic. He recovered, & all was well again.
Then I got older & other things became more important. Tuffy passed away at the age of 17, in his pen. My grandfather buried him in the backyard under the mountain apple tree. I wasn't particularly sad. I thought I should be but I wasn't.
Now, over 20 years later, I feel very sad & I miss him. I think of how crappy that pen must have been to get old & decrepit in. I never visited him in the last years, never came back to sing to him. When my parents' later Akita, Shizuko, was dying she waited for me to finally be able to visit the house; I spent the evening with her & she passed on a few hours after I went home. I wonder if Tuffy was waiting but never received his visit, & I feel terrible about it.
On a side note, today I am a professional singer. I probably have Tuffy to thank for it.
