My Pal Skippy
One of our neighbors had several dogs. Every time Mamma ‘n Daddy visited them, they’d take me with them. I loved playin’ with the dogs. Mamma said that I fell in love with the big brown eyed puppy that stole my heart. He had gray, white, and black hair. He was good natured and every time I looked at him, he seemed to say, “Take me home with you!”
Mamma and Daddy could tell I was attached to him because I cried when it was time to go back home. One day, while visitin’ with 'em, I didn’t have to leave him. We took him with us. Mamma said I was so happy! His name was Skippy. We grew up together. He was my best friend.
When my sister and I were in grade school, we sometimes argued like all sisters do, I could tell Skippy my side of the story. He’d listen ‘n not say a word. As a matter of fact, I told him a lot of secrets knowin’ I could trust him not to tell anyone.
Sometimes Skippy and I would chase each other ‘round the yard. Other times we just sat next to each other. He loved for me to rub him. Skippy was the best dog ever!
He was not one to chase cars or bark at other animals. As Skippy got older, he became more curious about things.
One day, when I was fifteen years old, a large dog, who had never been on our street before, was walkin’ in front of our house. For some reason, Skippy ran out to this dog barkin’ furiously. This dog was three times the size of Skippy. Mamma and I heard a lot of narlin’ and snarlin’ goin’ on. I ran out on the back porch and saw Skippy’s hind leg in the big dog’s mouth. I yelled, “Skippy, come here! Come here Skippy!”
The dog let Skippy go. He limped his way up the porch steps. I cried and hugged him! Mamma helped him down to the basement, where he lived. I stayed by his side and told him that everythin’ was gonna’ be ok.
Daddy took us all to the vet. Skippy came home in a cast on his hind leg. He wore it well ‘n seemed to understand that he needed to wear it in order to get better. It was a good while ‘fore the cast came off.
Skippy never walked the same again. He had to walk on three legs instead of four. But even with just three good legs, he was soon runnin’ again ‘n back to his old self!
I missed him so much when I went off to the beauty school. He was always happy to see me when I came home to visit. I remember Daddy callin’me one night at school. He told me that Skippy had died, and that he and Mamma buried him. I cried for days! I had lost my best friend! My pal Skippy! The next trip home, I helped burn his name of a piece of wood. We took it and put it up on his grave site.
Skippy had lived a long life for a dog. I’ll never forget his unconditional love.
Thanks to one of my aunt's who painted the portrait of Skippy for me!