My grampa on my dad’s side passed away when I was very young. But, I still remember his quirky, soft-hearted sense of humor. He was a soft-spoken man, with a pocket full of pennies whenever us grand-kids would come to visit – I was only about 5 or 6 when he passed away, so all I really remember is his soft manner, his smile, and him always having pennies for us to spend at the candy shop, and always having cookies for us in his cookie jar.
But, over the years, my dad has told us many stories about him, and one of my favorites is his story of the Easter Egg Dog.
Grampa had a dog with unruly hair. It wasn’t any particular breed of dog, but rather a mangy mutt, with hair that tangled so well, that Grampa liked to shave him in the spring. That way, he wouldn’t have to deal with his pup getting cockle burrs caught in his hair through the summer, as well as generally looking very disreputable.
Dad says that the dog – hated- getting shaved. Because there was no adorable “puppy cut” for Grampa’s dog, this was a sheep-shearin’ extravaganza. Dad says that Gramma could probably have knit another dog out of the hair that Gramps shaved off every spring. But the dog was mortified to be shorn of his beloved locks in public. Grampa would get out the clippers, shave the dog almost bald, and turn him loose.
The dog would limp around as though Gramps had cut off his legs.
Then he’d go lay on the porch, and not move. Only getting up to take care of life’s necessary functions like eating and poo-ing. For weeks, this would go on, till the dog would finally decide that his hair had grown back enough to be acceptable, and would recover.
Until Easter rolled around.
Dad told us that Grampa loved decorating for Easter.
Er, he loved decorating the DOG for Easter.
I would imagine, from Dad’s descriptions, that the dog looked something like this when Gramps was done with him:
He’d pick a different color every year, and use the food coloring, mixed up in a big batch, probably with water. And the dog would come out looking like a pastel marshmallow Easter peep.
They say that dogs are color-blind.
No matter. The dog knew what had been done to him. The laughter that would be aimed at his pastel posterior as he walked down the street, head hung in shame, told him that he looked ridiculous.
The dog found solace in mud holes, covering up the “princess pinks”, and the “yes, chickie yellows”. The “irish green” and the “passionate purples” would be only found, huddling under the porch of Grampa’s house, waiting for the first good rain to either bleed the color from his fur, or to turn the backyard into a big enough mud hole to keep him incognito for a good long time.
I wish I had pictures. OH, how I wish I had pictures of this! Because, in today’s weird world of pet-bling, there is a new trend.
Dyeing your pet’s fur to look like something else. And while there are still people out there that will turn a bingo-dauber into a weapon of cat destruction (OtherHalf’s friend did this once, the cat almost begged to be killed out of the shame), some people have turned this into an art-form. If you want to see… google “Dyed Dogs”. You’ll go blind, or have a few laughs, either way, there’s too many pictures out there to post here.
But YoungerDaughter wants one of these:
A Chow. Dyed to look like a Panda.
Talk about an identity crisis!
But you know? They are kinda cute…..
Oh… JILLLYYYY! Hey! Hold still while I get out the hair extensions! No! No BITING!