Painting the Town Red

I didn't want to let August 1 get too far away without once again saluting my family dog who passed away in 1992, Stroodle. Born to a purebred poodle mother, Stroodle was a mixed breed surprise born on August 1. (My best guess is that he was born in 1976.) He was just a great family dog.

One of my favorite memories of ole Stroodle was giving him a bath and brushing him out so he'd look beautiful for my elementary school's dog show. We each wrote little biographies of our dogs. (I left out the part about the uncertainty about the identity of Stroodle's Dad.) We sat on folding chairs in little pens created by the snow fencing out in the school yard and the judges walked by. The only problem was that the snow fencing was freshly painted for this event and Stroodle was covered in red paint before I noticed the wet fence. He won an award anyway -- most athletic -- for his skills catching a tennis ball, and I was very proud.

If you get a chance this week, toast one to ole Strudy -- you'll never find a more loyal, smart, or loving dog than that old mutt.