Some people might find it odd to have a porcelain dog named Dog. Some might laugh or have disdain toward our camaraderie over the years. Some might even think that his presence where ever I live is the lingering result of childhood sentimentalism, in line with the framed picture of ALF that hangs in my hallway today (and was my first garage sale purchase as a child). This last bunch is the closest to the truth.
There is an interesting story behind Dog's appearance in my life. Dog was not a flea market, garage sale, or Value Village purchase that I've kept by my side as an ongoing, long-winded, joke. No, Dog's origin is far more significant.
Dog came into my life as one of the only remaining memories of my great-grandmother after she died. As awkward and peculiar as Dog might look, Dog is a tie
that links me to the part of my family that came from Waterford, Ontario. Dog may be small and frail, but Dog also has a perma-snarl. If anyone knew my great-grandmother, they'd realize why Dog would be a great link to my fading memories of the small, frail, perma-snarly "Great-Grammy Hyde" before she died.
So why am I telling the story of Dog? Well, the night before I left for a mini-vacation last Saturday morning, someone took Dog. Someone thought Dog needed a vacation. That same someone made a blog about Dog's adventures. I miss Dog, and am eagerly awaiting Dog's return - but in the meantime I will be tracking Dog's moves online.
Please visit dogsvacationblog.wordpress.com, and demand Dog's return!