Walls, Pictures and Dogs

by Mickey Dunaway

I should have written this column for the July dog-themed issue, but since procrastination is my number one personal skill, I am a month late. So, with that lead-in, I trust you are still happy to read my experiences and recollections about our canine friends.

But first, let’s take a journey to visit the walls in my small house in Bailey’s Glen. As HAHs – “Hawaiians at Heart” – most walls of our house are decorated with photos and artifacts from the major islands of Hawaii: Oahu, Maui, Kauai and the Big Island of Hawaii. It’s a collection of Hawaiian quilts on a wall in our master bedroom. My dear wife decided we needed to move those quilts and bring them out into some of the main walls of the house. As you can imagine, I was thrilled. I just love hanging pictures – it’s right up there with hanging blinds.

Moving those quilts from the master bedroom created a blank wall, and I suggested that we turn that blank space into a “dog wall.” Surprisingly, my wife agreed. I prefer walls filled with pictures or artifacts; however, the “boss of walls” generally likes one to two images per wall. We reached a compromise. She can have fewer pictures in her bedroom, and I can have a dog wall in my bedroom. Compromise is good, especially when both sides win.

On to dogs ... August is the time for “dog days.” Most Southerners think it is called that because it is hot and humid enough to steam a pot of shrimp without a stove. Therefore, the only appropriate thing to do in such conditions is to lie under the ceiling fan with your dog. Wrong.

According to National Geographic, “Instead, the dog days refer to Sirius, the brightest star in the constellation Canis Major ... and is said to represent one of Orion’s hunting dogs.”

I am sticking with my Southern learning about “dog days.” Regardless, any month is good for writing about the amazing reciprocal nature of love and dogs.

That dog-wall I mentioned earlier has nine pictures of the dogs my wife and I have loved during our marriage and one image of Honeybee, the best Beagle the Almighty ever put on this Earth to hunt south Alabama cottontails.

Alabama dogs: there is Napoleon, a Bassett, and Major, a Yellow Lab who was so big a friend said he should have at least been a Colonel. And there is Snickers, a Chocolate Lab we inherited from our son.

If there are no dogs in heaven, then when I die, I want to go where they went.

– Will Rogers

Kentucky dogs: Kentucky Coal Dust or Coal, our magnificent Black Lab, who weighed 60 pounds at six months. His heart gave out when he was 10, but not before he stole an apple from the kitchen side table that morning. There is Rufus, another Chocolate Lab we inherited from our son. Not smart, but the sweetest and most lovable of all our dogs. There’s also Khaki, a Kentucky Golden Retriever whose golden strands of weightless hair floated everywhere until we finally called them condiments. Coal, Khaki and Rufus lived together with us, and all slept on our bed.

North Carolina Brittanys: Boomer, and his mother, Chloe. Boomer is the smartest of all our dogs and the most inquisitive, and the best (or worst) counter-surfer. We were gifted his mother, an award winner in the show ring and field trials when the pandemic hit our breeder hard. Chloe was nine; she is now 13. Chloe is the first female dog we have owned. Sweetness, intelligence and elfish behaviors are Chloe’s significant traits. Chloe has taught us that an older adopted dog’s incredible amount of love is worth a few more vet visits and the knowledge of the rush of her end days to come.

If you have loved and been loved by canines in your lifetime, I know you also have hundreds of pictures of them. Frame a few and choose a wall so that each time you go by, you are reminded of the precious gift given to us by the Almighty.

Are dogs angels among us? Who am I to contradict it?