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Wordless Wednesday: Vintage Dog #4

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Before we got into this volunteer puppy raising gig for Canine Companions for Independence and had a household of face lickers, we had The Kaiser.

Noble and handsome, The Kaiser and I had a bond that I never experienced before. Or since.We lost this beautiful soulful dog at the young age of nine to an aggressive cancer.

I still miss him.

But hey, on a brighter note, you eagle-eyed dog handlers out there have certainly noticed the retractable leash by now. What were you thinking!, you cry. A big, robust dog like that on a retractable leash? You should know better.

Ah, yes, you are correct. I do know better. Now, I do.  My education involved a simple formula of a 90 lb dog plus a scared rabbit that added up to a face plant. Wasn’t pretty, folks. And frankly, hurt like hell.

If I offer nothing else in this world than to serve as an example, then that is my destiny to embrace.  Just say no to retractable leashes, people.  

Wordless Wednesday: Vintage (car) dog #3

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Actually not a Vintage Dog this time. That’s Jager’s reflection we see there. The terrier’s still alive and well and frankly driving me nuts this morning mercilessly tormenting the cat. 

Rather, we have a vintage car sporting Jager’s funky little self in the shined up wheel cover.  We’d set up camp at a local car show with a family member’s 1954 Packard Constellation.  We could have used Jager as a guard dog of sorts, I suppose, if he wasn’t all love me, love me, LOVE ME with everyone that came by. 

A former stray, he’s got some savvy street smarts. Working those soft brown eyes to share that they don’t feed me on Saturdays. Won’t you give me that hot dog, please sir? 

Wordless Wednesday: Vintage Dog #2

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Hey kids!  Remember when photos came spitting right out of the camera? Your ‘rent would wave the photo in the air a few times, then you’d all stand around and watch as your smiling family developed right before your eyes? 

Naw, I’m just messing with you. Of course you don’t. Heck some of you young folk have never held a film camera, never mind a Polaroid Land Camera. This incredible technology of instant gratification so popular in the ’70’s is now a mere part of our Americana history.

And here my friends, is a glimpse of farm life, circa 1972 or something like that. Straight from the spittin’ Polaroid image to my fancy-ass modern scanner. Raw and unedited, no Photoshop fix-up here.  Looks like three sisters and their dogs, right? That’s my mom on the far left. My little sister is in the middle getting photo bombed by a dog (snort), and my stylin’ self on the right.

Ever the nerd, when I wasn’t wearing socks with sandals, I was buttoning my shirt up to the neck. I apparently ditched the obligatory pocket protector and had decided to carry my math flash cards out with me for the photo shoot. And that hair style was simple affair, with the locks flowing down past my non-existent waist. Hair parted on the side because I saw Cher do hers that way once.

The farm dogs are the beloved Willie (left) and Ringo (right). The two never met a leash, but instead took on the role as my companions as we went on adventerous explorations in the woods near our farm. Ringo sported some collie genes and Willie appeared to be part wolverine or badger or something. We had to keep Willie away from the chickens. And my little brother.

Addendum:

This Time article showed up in my newsfeeds this morning. A creepy story made even more dire with the reference to the Dead Uncle.

Kansas boy buys camera at garage sale, finds photo of dead uncle.

So I write a story about Polaroid Land Cameras and Time shares a story about lost Polaroid photo. Published in the etherworld on the same day, people. And the photos, mine and the Dead Uncle’s, were taken about the same time. Yeah, give or take a couple of years, but that’s close, right?

“It’s either a modern ghost story or a wild coincidence,” says Time. What’s the word I’m looking for here? Oh yeah.

Hyperbole. And a big, heaping dose of it, too.

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