1958 Marseille and Velvet

In 1958 when we drove from Gravenchon to Juan Les Pins, one of the places we stopped for the night was Marseille.  It's a city known for seafood and my mother couldn't wait to get her favorite:  Moules mariniere (mussels cooked in garlic, butter, and white wine).  There is something about the sound of those shells clinking against each other even now, 60 years later, that takes me right back.

Moules Mariniere

We walked around the city that night, particularly around the docks.  But what I remember best is what happened the next morning.

We had our dog Velvet with us.  (He went on the trip and stayed in a kennel in Juan Les Pins, for some reason).  The room my sister and I shared had a big window that opened really wide onto a square.  There was a small balcony outside, just about big enough to stand on.  

Hotel Vieux Port, Marseille

I dressed Velvet in a pair of my red shorts with thin white stripes and my white t-shirt, and put him out on the balcony with me so we could watch the people walking below.  After a few minutes, apparently someone spotted him and before long, everyone was pointing up to him (we were on the second floor) and clapping and laughing.  He loved it.  I loved it.  My parents didn't love it so much.  It was a moment that stood out in a long road trip.

1957 The Dog Angel

We had some friends who lived a couple of towns away from us named Miche and Jean LeMaitre.  Their son was at hotel school in Paris, which I thought was wonderful.  I had a bit of a crush on him actually.

The LeMiatres had a very nice big dog.  Whenever we went to visit them, we usually stayed most of the day because it was fairly far away, and I spent all my time playing with the dog.  One spring day, we went to see them and the dog wasn't there.  When I asked where he was, Jean LeMaitre said that he had taken him hunting over the winter, and somehow the dog got shot.  Jean tried to save him but he lost too much blood.  The ground was frozen, so Jean made him a grave under a pile of leaves and branches, and put a little cross over it. 

This made me very sad because he was a wonderful dog and still young.

About a month later, we got a phone call from Miche that the dog had come back.  Someone had found him and unburied him and taken him to a vet.  The vet was shocked that he was alive, though barely, and called someone at a university.  The vet took him there, where they performed tests on him, and transfused him.  Apparently, he had lost most of his blood, and had been in a deep freeze, like suspended animation.  After transfusions and slow warming of his body, he came back to life.  They got the LeMaitres' name from his collar.  Needless to say, Jean and Miche were overjoyed.

Of course, the dog probably wasn't really dead, he was just at a low body temperature and his body functions had slowed down.  

The university wrote some articles about him and he was on the TV news once.  You could see the place where he had been shot, right in the chest.  He was like a canine angel come back to earth.  I never forgot him.

In a totally unrelated story, the LeMaitres' son had gone to Switzerland for vacation that winter.  He and two of his friends were running for a train, and one of them attempted to jump up onto the train from the platform.  He was hit by the train and decapitated.  I remember hearing my parents discussing it when they thought I wasn't listening.  I had nightmares about it.

1974 Dawn, Gabby, and Annie

Dawn was a leach.  She would latch onto you and you couldn't get rid of her.  She was constantly being evicted, with one hard luck story after another.  She had a young son, maybe 6 or 7 years old, and four Afghans.  One of them was a little black female named Gabby (Gabriella of Grandeur).  She also had Gabby's two sons, a big red brindle named Montrose Smackwater Jack and a bigger black male named Montrose California Soul, as well as Gabby's beautiful cream domino daughter, Sally (Montrose Azul Dominga.)  Gabby lived with us for a couple of months when Dawn was between living arrangements.

Ch. Montrose California Soul "Jules"

Gabby was wonderful.  I would have kept her forever.  She fit right in.  I think she is the reason I have always had a special place in my heart for little black Afghan bitches.  She is also probably the reason that I got my Hermit daughter, Alabama, who was also a little black bitch, from Jeanette in California.

Gabriella of Grandeur "Gabby"

Strange Twist of Fate
Many years later when we lived in Denver, I was offered a black and tan Champion Afghan Hound bitch by my friends at Shylo.  That was Her name was Ch. Shylo Ceylon, "Annie" and I was thrilled to have her.  One day when I was at Shylo, I asked about her pedigree.  Bruce told me her mother was their beloved, "Puff", Linmara Lucinda of Shylo.  I mentioned that I had known someone in New Jersey whose kennel name was Linmara and sure enough, it was her.  And Puff's mother was a bitch named Montrose Azul Dominga, whose mother was Gabriella of Grandeur, Gabby!  I had Gabby's great-granddaughter and didn't even know it!

1985 River View Farm

The first time I saw "In Cold Blood" was when it first came out in 1967 and my parents, sister, and I were living in Bernardsville, NJ.  

Movie "In Cold Blood"

My sister Lydia and I went to see the movie by ourselves.  My parents dropped us off on the way to dinner with some friends.  The movie scared the bejesus out of me.  It was so bad I actually held onto my sister's arm (and I didn't touch her, ever).  Finally, I was so scared I went out in the lobby and called my parents to tell them to come get us right away.  

What had frightened me so badly was that the Clutters were totally innocent victims.  It made me realize I could be one too.  It showed me how vulnerable we all are.  Apparently, I had believed that as long as I didn't do anything bad, I would be safe.  Not so.  Our house was surrounded by trees, lots of them that used to make noise in the wind.  It was weeks before I wouldn't shiver when I heard them, even though I had a German Shepherd sleeping on my bed.

The Clutter Family

I also think I related to Nancy Clutter.  She was out riding her horse on the river that day.  She was not that much younger than I was.  And she was innocent.  And she was brutally killed.  At that time, I hadn't read the book, though my mother had.  After the movie, I decided to read it and decided it was considerably less frightening than the movie, but also in a way it was more so.

The next time I saw the movie was when I lived in New York, probably around 1970.  My husband David, Lydia, and I were supposed to drive to Boston for some reason I can't remember.  The weather was nasty and I decided not to go.  After they left, I saw that "In Cold Blood" was on TV..  I decided to watch it again to get rid of that awful fear from years before.  I left the lights on, and watched it with my 3 dogs.  It was scary, but this time I was ready.  Reading the book had also taken away some of the fear.

In 1985, I was living in Vernon, Texas, and was married to Trey.  His friend Gordon Haynes had had white German Shepherds for many years, and we decided to get a puppy.  I drove to Garden City, Kansas, to get our puppy.  


When I arrived in Garden City, I saw a sign that said Holcomb 7 miles.  Holcomb, Kansas.  Wasn't that where the Clutters' farm was, River View Farm?  I decided to go before I went to see the puppy.

I found the house right away.  That long driveway with the trees was still there.  It had been close to 20 years since I first was so terrified by that movie, but it all came back.  It affected me more than I had expected, but I'll never forget it.

1977 Jamie, the Aftermath

In 1977, I had gotten a divorce and was living with my mother in Maine.  A good friend was living in Dallas and I decided to visit her, and then go see my grandparents in Vernon.  My German Shepherd, Jamie, (now called Haus) was in relatively good health, though he was 11 years old by then.  I was very nervous about seeing him after 8 years.  Would he remember me?  Did I want him to?  In a way, I didn't.  It would be easier for both of us if he didn't.

When I arrived, Haus was sitting on the back porch.  My uncle Bill met me at the car and told me that when I entered the gate, Jamie would come barking and he would be ferocious.  Haus had quite a reputation as a guard dog.  Once someone had been verbally abusive to my Grandma King and when Haus heard the raised voices, he actually grabbed one of the men by the arm and started pulling him.  Bill said to just stand my ground and he would be right behind me in case Haus got aggressive.  

I opened the gate and Haus came running (as fast as he could, though he was obviously showing his age).  He was intimidating, with his hackles up and his deep bark.  But then, when he was a couple of feet from me, I forgot what Bill told me and just knelt down and said "Jamie, Jamie!"

He stopped and looked at me and I could almost see the recognition in his eyes.  He looked blank, then all of a sudden he was all over me, licking me and almost knocking me down.  Later, Bill said he was scared to death when he saw Jamie stop, because he thought he was about to attack me.  But I saw his eyes and I knew he wasn't.

I spent 2 days there, and it almost broke my heart.  Jamie was torn between his job of guarding Becky and wanting to be by my side.  I remember how his breeder, Mrs. Lochner, had told me one of the reasons she decided to let me have him so young was that puppies create their strongest bond at around 5 weeks.  That bond was deep enough to last 7 years and still be true.

Jamie died less than a year later.  He is buried on what used to be my grandparents' farm that he protected so well.

1969 Jamie and Texas

In 1969, I secretly got married and knew that I would be moving to New York's Greenwich Village to live with David when I graduated from Katharine Gibbs Secretarial School.  It was a volatile time.  My dad didn't know about David and when he found out, I moved out of the Bernardsville house under a black cloud.  

Originally, I had planned to take Jamie with me; I had no doubt in my mind.  My dad talked me out of it, telling me how miserable Jamie would be in the city.  

He was right.  We were living in a tiny, 1-room studio.  It just didn't seem right to bring him there after he'd spent his whole life virtually running free, so I kept putting it off.  


One night my dad called and said he might have a solution.  My uncle Bill in Texas wanted him.  Bill's wife Becky had some kind of disorder causing her to lose consciousness without any warning.  Bill thought Jamie would be a perfect companion for her, to help keep her safe, and give her a little more freedom.  She was basically confined to the house.

At first, it was a shocking plan.  As long as Jamie was in New Jersey, he was close enough for me to visit and see on a regular basis.  But Texas?  I said I needed to think about it, but a few weeks later, my dad called and said they were moving to London.  That forced me to decide - should he come live with me or go to Texas?  As hard as it was to admit, I knew the right decision was for him to go.*

My dad built him a huge wooden crate; it must have weighed 200 lbs.  He took him to the airport and off he went.  My uncle Bill picked him up in Dallas and drove him to Vernon.  

Apparently, Jamie kept trying to escape, but fortunately, he was not successful.  My dad didn't tell me any of this at the time.  I would have been terribly upset to know how unhappy he was.  

Then one day, he was with Becky and she passed out.  Jamie stayed by her side, barking, and my grandmother found her.  After that, Jamie had a job, and he never left her side.  He even went to the beauty parlor with her, sitting outside the door.  Once he had a job, he was a happy dog.  

When I heard about this, I was jealous. He was still my dog.  But I was glad too.  My uncle called him Haus and he was a local legend.  If Becky had a spell, Haus would run and get my grandmother. Because of him, Becky was able to leave the house, which she hadn't been able to do before he came.  He was literally a life saver and I was proud.

• When I moved to the Village, I met an amazing dog named Khan.  He was an Afghan Hound and I knew someday I would have one.  When I agreed to send Jamie to Texas, I basically blackmailed my dad and told him he should give me the money to get another dog, since he had stolen mine.  He sent me $300.  A couple of months later, David and I bought our Afghan Hound puppy, Bandirran Mona Lisa (Shendi).

1968 Jamie and the Bone

One of my nightly chores was to cut up the dog dinners.

We fed Benjamin and Jamie fresh raw meat that we got from the butcher. Every night I would cut it up into chunks, smaller for Benjamin, larger for Jamie.

I had just finished reading "Beyond Belief", the story of the Moors Murders, which was a very bloody and gruesome story.

After reading that book, I couldn't do it anymore, it made me sick.  I had to trade chores with my sister.

Big bloody meaty disgusting bone

Jamie loved big juicy meaty bloody bones.  He was only allowed to eat them outside.  He slept on my bed every night, or if he got too warm, on the floor beside my bed.  A few days after I read "Beyond Belief", I crawled into bed and my foot felt something slimy and cold.  I got back out and turned on the light and noticed my foot was covered in blood.  After I got over the shock, I threw back the covers, and shoved down at the bottom of the bed was a big, bloody slimy bone.  Jamie had found the perfect hiding place.  I have no idea how he smuggled that bone into the house.  It was disgusting.  But Jamie was really proud of himself.

1968 Jamie and the Tulips

Jamie was very fond of flowers, tulips in particular.  All along the back of our house were several rows Some of them were the black ones, which my mother prized greatly.

One day she went outside to water them and let out a shriek!   When I went running, I saw that every tulip was gone.  All the stems were there, all the leaves were there, but every flower was gone.  We couldn't imagine what had happened to them.

A few days later, I happened to notice Jamie cruising through the tulip stems.

When the next batch bloomed, I waited and sure enough, he went and bit off every tulip.

1968 Jamie, Is Too Smart Too Smart?

Jamie was such an incredibly smart dog, I decided to go beyond teaching him to roll over or shake hands.  I taught him to prepare to go to Vietnam (remember, this was in 1968).  I would say, "Jamie, are you ready to go to Vietnam?" and he would drop to his belly.


Then I would point my finger and say "bang bang" and he would roll over and play dead.  Then I would say, "Get in the mud!" and he would crawl on his belly until I told him he was done.


He was so smart he took short cuts.

At the time, I was interested in archery and had a nice bow.  My dad got me a bale of hay and we put a target on it.  I would go into the woods behind our house and shot arrows, sometimes into the target, sometimes into the woods.  Jamie would sit beside me and when I had shot all my arrows, I would tell him to "go find the arrows, Jamie".  He would take off in leaps and bounds and go find the arrows and bring them back.

One day, he decided it would make more sense to go and wait for the arrows.  As I was shooting the first one, he jumped up and galloped into the woods beside the target, early waiting for the arrow.  Fortunately, I was able to shoot the arrow in the other direction.  Apparently his plan was to catch them in midair.  I explained to him that this was probably not a good idea.

Too smart.

1968 Getting Jamie

When we moved to Bernardsville, NJ, from Paris, we had my mother’s dog, Benjamin, a beautiful golden Cocker Spaniel.  In Bernardsville, we had a huge yard and woods all around, and I wanted my own dog very badly.  My dad said I could get a dog as long as it was a "real dog", a "big dog".  So I decided to get a German Shepherd.  I admit, my dad influenced me to some extent.  As a kid he had had a 1/2 coyote-1/2 German Shepherd and he said she was the best dog he ever had.  

So my mother and I went on a GSD search.  We found my puppy about 50 miles away at the home of a GSD breeder who, it turns out, was quite well known.  At the time, I knew nothing about breeding, and even less about showing.  I just knew I wanted my puppy.  

German Shepherd puppy

When we went to see the litter, they were about 3 weeks old, too young to come home.  The breeder, Mrs. Lochner, spent a lot of time with us, explaining how the female was a German import, and about how the quality is controlled in Germany by limiting the size of the litters, etc.  The mother's side was filled with conformation and obedience champions, as well as other titles.  The dad was an American dog who was a reputable show dog.   But I didn't care; I just wanted my puppy.

There were 5 puppies, and they all came at me at once, just like in the movies.  But there was one who just seemed special to me and I chose him right away.  I was so incredibly excited, but then I realized that he wouldn't be able to come home with me, not for weeks and weeks.  That broke my heart, and my mother said maybe we should keep looking for one who was ready, but I couldn't do it.  That was my dog.

German Shepherd Puppy

So we left without him.  I called Mrs. Lochner several times a week to see how he was doing.  She said he could leave at eight weeks.  Eight weeks?  That was five weeks after I first saw him.  After two weeks of calling, Mrs. Lochner asked to speak to my dad on the phone.  When he was done, he turned to me and said, "How would you like to go get your puppy tomorrow?"   I was ecstatic.  Apparently, Mrs. Lochner decided I was responsible enough to get him so young.  She realized how much I wanted him, and what good care he would get.  There were rules that we had to follow (not going outside before shots, etc). but that was easy.  

When we finally brought him home, he was just a bundle of black and tan fur.  It was instant love.

He was already registered when I got him:

Arnim von Haus Lochner 

(Arnim of the House of Lochner)  

I named him Jamie after a character in a book called "The Well of Loneliness".

1986 Sunny and the Snake

When Benjamin was just a baby, we were outside in our fence yard one nice day.  Suddenly, Critter started barking at one of the fence poles.  When I went over to investigate, I found several tiny baby rabbits in a little hole by the pole.  But what Critter was barking at wasn’t the little hairless rabbits; it was the huge snake about to grab them.  

I picked B up and took him in the house and into the playpen.  Then I grabbed our 9 mm Smith & Wesson, put on my boots, and went back out.  That snake was not going to eat those rabbits if I had a say.  Besides, I heard it rattle!  I had to kill it, as much as I hated to.  When I went back, the snake was gone (but the rabbits were still there).  I figured now I had an angry snake on my hands.  The snake was nowhere to be seen. 

Smith & Wesson 9 mm

Our trailer sat on the edge of my father-in-law Ben’s alfalfa field.  I knew I would never be able to find that snake out there.  I went back in the house and got my car keys (Shelby).  Then I took the gun and started driving in the direction I thought it would be headed, hanging out the window as I drove.  After a few feet I saw what looked like alfalfa moving so I followed it.  Then I just started shooting in the general area.  I shot as many times as I had bullets (18).  I thought at least if I hadn’t killed it, maybe I had scared it.  Finding a snake in alfalfa is not easy.

Alfalfa field

I drove back to the house and by then I was shaking.  What if that snake had come into the yard?  It could have bitten the dogs, or god forbid, B or me.  What a relief it was gone.

When I was sure the yard was safe, I put Benjamin in his walker in the grass, then took Critter with me to find the snake.  It was pretty easy to see where the incident occurred, the alfalfa was flattened.  And sure enough, I killed it.  Critter found it and dragged it back to the house.  It was pretty big actually.

At that point, I called Trey at the shop and told him what had happened, and that I’d saved us from a huge rattlesnake.  He said that was funny, because apparently Ben had called him because he noticed something was amiss with the alfalfa next to our house.  It looked like it had been trampled by a herd of moose.  Oh dear.

When Trey got home, he didn’t want to look at the snake, he hated snakes, but by then I had realized this was not a rattlesnake, it was a friendly bull snake.  But the word was out.  The story of the alfalfa field attack became legendary among my father-in-law’s cohorts.  I wish I could have seen it, actually, me driving my car through the alfalfa, leaning out the window shooting.

Texas bullsnake

The funniest thing part of this was that the next day, Critter was lying outside the yard under a tree admiring her snake.  Then Sunny, who was perhaps 3 or 4 months old at the time, slyly wiggled his way over to her.  He casually grabbed the snake by the tail and proceeded to drag it away.  Trey and I both were aghast!  You didn’t do that kind of thing to Critter, and Sunny had never been her favorite (she loved Shadow though).  Sunny eventually dragged the snake far enough away and had it laid out in a straight line.  Then he laid down beside it, and from then on, it was Sunny’s snake.  

Never saw anything like it.  He should have been dead.

1989 Sunny on the Tracks

When he was about 3 years old, my son Benjamin had a Wolfhound named Sunny.  I had an adult named Shadow, and I had decided Benjamin needed his own puppy.  He loved Sunny, they went roaming around together.  We lived in a trailer house on my in-laws' land and there was plenty of space.  We had a fenced yard as well, where the dogs could stay.  But sometimes we liked to let them out and take them "out back" where the land dropped down to fields and then the Pease River.

Smith Hill

Not too far away from our trailer was the railroad track.  The trains went by pretty regularly.One day, I went outside and didn't see the three dogs, Sunny, Shadow, and our white German Shepherd, Critter.  Then I found a hole dug under the fence.  I started running up our towards the track and the street because that was I feared the most.  As I did, I saw Shadow and Critter come running towards me.  Critter kept going to the house, but Shadow was visibly upset.  I went with him up the embankment to where the train track was, and then I saw him, a pile of fur a little way down the track.  He didn't appear to be moving.

I ran all the way back to the house to get my car, which was a little Dodge Colt Premier Turbo.  I put Critter and Shadow in the yard and grabbed a couple of blankets.  Then I called our vet, Dr. Roger Lacy, and told them I was coming, and took off to the track.
When I got there, I left the back door of the car open.

Then I climbed up the embankment to where Sunny was lying.  He wasn't moving, but he seemed to be breathing.  He had a long singe mark all the way down his side from his shoulder to his flank.  I wasn't sure what to do, what if he had a broken back?  But I couldn't leave him lying on the track, knowing more trains would be coming.  I spread out one of the blankets and dragged him onto it.  He made some movements, so I know it must have hurt, but he didn't try to bite me.  After I got him on the blanket, I managed to get him down the embankment to the car.  He weighed about 80 lbs, I would imagine.  Somehow I got him onto the back seat, shut the door and took off to the vet.

Lacy Vet Clnic

When I got there, they took him in and told me to wait.  It was a long wait.  When Dr Lacy came out to get me, he told me Sunny was lucky that he was still alive.  He didn't appear to have any broken bones, but, he had a severe concussion and his responses were not good.  Roger thought he might have been hit a glancing blow on the head and landed between the 2 rails.  That would account for the singeing of his coat, from the heat of the metal wheels going by him.  It was close to a miracle that he actually only had the concussion.

Sunny stayed at the vet for about a week.  When he came home, he was subdued and lethargic.  I didn't think he would ever be back to normal.  But he remembered Benjamin, and Benjamin remembered him.  That was the important thing.  Shadow was extremely protective of him, but Critter never had liked him since he stole a snake from her as a puppy.

Sunny recovered to be almost completely his old self.  He retained the singe marks down his side for a couple of months, but otherwise, he was okay.  Dr. Lacy later told me "I wouldn't have given that dog a 30% chance of surviving, much less being back to normal".

I was just grateful I found him so quickly.  If he had been there when another train came by, we would not have been so fortunate.

1959 Runaway

Once, when we lived in Orono, Maine, I ran away from home.  I didn’t go alone; I took our dog, Velvet.  

It was early afternoon and we set out, Velvet on his leash, and me carrying my hobo pack on a stick.  In it I had some snacks and some food for Velvet.  We walked out of town for what seemed like several hours.  It was starting to get dark and it occurred to me suddenly that I was all alone out there with nowhere to sleep.  Of course, I wasn’t scared because I had Velvet.  

As it was getting dark, a car pulled up beside me and Velvet got excited.  Sure enough, it was my dad.  He asked me where I was going, and I said “Anywhere!”.  He told me that was fine with him, but I was not taking his dog.  He said “You can continue on your trip, but the dog is coming home with me”.  He stopped the car, and got out.  Oddly enough, when he tried to take Velvet’s leash, Velvet came back closer to me.  I think it hurt my dad’s feeling.  

We negotiated for a bit, but finally I gave in and we all climbed into the car and went home.

1960 When Velvet Almost Died

I had a secret horse named Chess that I visited almost every day when we lived in Maine.

One day Velvet, our Boxer, went with me to visit Chess. Usually I didn't let him because he tended to chase Chess, but that day he came. As soon as Chess and Velvet saw each other, I knew it was a mistake. Chess wouldn't come to me and Velvet kept barking. I was afraid someone would hear him and my days of visiting Chess would be over. Finally, Velvet started to chase Chess and I knew there would trouble. How was I going to catch Velvet to make him stop? The more upset Chess got, the more Velvet chased him. Finally, Velvet got really close and Chess kicked out. I heard a yelp and then Velvet fell to the ground. Chess stopped in front of him and just stood there in a sweat. He let me come right up to Velvet, who was lying on the ground totally still.

I knew he was dead. He had a big gash over his eye and he had blood all over his head. He was totally still but he was breathing. I dragged him out of the pasture and tried to get him to stand up, but he just kept falling to the ground. I realized I had to get him up the hill to the house, so I just started to drag him with my hands under his front legs and backing up that steep slope. I imagine he weighed about 50 lbs and I was not very big for 12 years old. 

Finally, I had to give up and go get my dad. I so dreaded doing that. Velvet was his best friend. I believe I actually told him I thought Velvet was dead. He loved that dog so much his face just turned white. He didn't even asked what happened, I think he probably thought he had run out into the road on one of his famous escapades.

We both ran down the hill and my dad just threw him over his shoulders and got him back to the house. He was still breathing. My dad put him on the couch and got a cloth and water and washed off his head. That was the first (and maybe the only) time I saw my dad cry. He got some of his Johnny Walker Red and put a few drops in Velvet's mouth, then a few more.  I can still hear my mother saying "For God's sake, Travis, you love that dog more than us", and I think it was probably the truth.

I remember being on my knees on the floor with my head on his chest listening to his heart. When we were in Australia I used to lie on the floor using Velvet as a pillow but his heartbeat always seemed too loud and it kept me from falling asleep on him. I thought of that now because it didn't seem that loud anymore. My dad kept talking to him, and stroking him, and finally Velvet came around. My dad immediately loaded him into the car and drove him to the vet. I was not allowed to go, I imagine in case Velvet's injuries were to prove fatal. My dad would have wanted to grieve alone. But that was not to be, thank God.

Velvet came home with many stitches in his head and a shaved head. Apparently he also had a concussion. We nursed him back to health and he never had any ill effects from his kick in the head. However, I had to explain the whole incident to my dad, and I was forbidden from seeing Chess again. He explained all the reason, trespass, liability, etc., and oh yes it all made perfect sense to me, but I still had to go one more time to say goodbye. As much as I loved Chess and our adventures, I felt as though that was my punishment for letting Velvet get hurt. And I accepted that, because I did love Velvet more.

The next day, I went and took him extra apples and laid them in a pile for him and told him it wasn't his fault. It was so hard to say goodbye that day. It was raining and I could smell that wonderful warm horsy smell and the apples. But it had to be I guess.

1955 Port Arthur

My mother hated Port Arthur.  I liked it okay.  I got to spend a lot of time outside, at least when we first moved there.  

Then the polio epidemic hit, and it hit that area hard.  Everyone was paranoid.  In fact, our next door neighbor was a doctor and he had a son named Doug.  Doug wore braces on his legs and used crutches because he had polio. I remember my parents talking about how awful it was for a doctor’s son to have it. What is it they say? The doctor’s son is the last to get the shot? It was so true in this case. I remember they also had a Boxer like our dog Velvet. I was never allowed to talk to Doug and I felt so sorry for him.  Sometimes I would sneak a conversation over the fence.  It was very sad, and I wasn't allowed to play outside anymore either.  

We followed the progress of the Salk vaccine thanks to my Uncle Abbey who worked for a drug company.    When it was finally approved, it was like a miracle.  It was like we had been set free.

Interestingly, when we went to Normandy not long after that, we took some vaccine with us because it wasn't yet available in Europe.  It stayed in the refrigerator until we were due for our immunizations.

"April 12th had almost become a national holiday: people observed moments of silence, rang bells, honked horns, blew factory whistles, fired salutes, kept their red lights red in brief periods of tribute, took the rest of the day off, closed their schools or convoked fervid assemblies therein, drank toasts, hugged children, attended church, smiled at strangers, and forgave enemies."

1955 Velvet the World Traveler

When we left Australia in 1955, our flight was a couple of days long.  My parents made arrangements to have our dog, Velvet, sent to New York from Sydney on a ship.  He would be considered freight, and it was a tough decision.  The other options were to leave him behind (which my dad never would have done) or have him go with us by air.  At that time, I don't even know if that would have been possible for such a long flight with so many stops all over the world. We were flying to San Francisco with a stop at Canton Island.  Then after a night in San Francisco, we were flying on to New York.   

Velvet's trip was long; over 2 months.  By the time he arrived in New York, we had settled in with my aunt Audrey, uncle Abbey, and cousins Douglas and Paul, in Chestnut Hill, near Boston.  My dad and I drove from to New York to pick Velvet up.

But then, a drama ensued.  The captain refused to let him go.  Apparently, he had not slept one night in the cargo area; he slept with the captain, on the captain's bed.  He spent every day on the bridge.  He even had dinner in the dining quarters.  

Of course, my dad was totally taken aback.  We had a long conversation and it was finally decided, after much protesting on my part, that we would allow Velvet to decide.  My dad promised that if he chose the captain, he would get another Boxer for me (and him).  I had to promise not to entice him in any way, and to let him decide.

One of the captain's crew came and took him from the captain and then brought him over to my dad and me so he could see and sniff us.  Then he walked a distance away and unclipped Velvet's leash.  Velvet ran to the captain and my heart broke.  

But then, after licking the captain's  hand, he turned around and came running straight to me.  It was one of the best moments of my life.  The fact that he had to go apologize to the captain said a lot about how he had been treated.

If only Velvet could have talked about his trip!  He went through the Panama Canal.   He was a most special dog and friend.

1954 Lifesaver

When we lived in Australia, we had a wonderful lady who was a housekeeper and babysitter.  Her name was Mrs. Timmons and she taught me how to eat oatmeal with chocolate milk on it.  She took care of us quite a bit.

I remember one day I was listening to the radio that sat on the floor of my parents’ bedroom, and was quite large, like a small trunk.  For some reason, I left the room and when I came back in, my 2-year-old sister was standing on the radio and Velvet, our Boxer, was barking at her.  

When I looked at her more closely, I realized she looked funny.  Her face was all swollen and she was swinging.  Then I saw she had a strange-looking necklace around her neck.  All of a sudden I realized that she was not standing on the radio anymore.  

Apparently she had stood on the radio and wrapped the cord of the blinds around her neck, and then wanting to show everyone her new necklace, she stepped off into nothing. 

I screamed and Mrs Timmons immediately came and ran back into the kitchen and got a knife.  I was scared so I went outside with Velvet, our Boxer, crying until Mrs Timmons came and got me.  Mother was outside at the time, and when she saw me, she ran into the house.  When I went back into the house she was there with Diddy on the floor.  Then they took her to the hospital and I stayed with Mrs Timmons.

They told me later I saved her life, but actually it was Velvet; he barked when he saw her swinging.  

1954 Yelambi Avenue, Yowie Bay, NSW, Australia

In Australia, we first lived in an apartment in Sydney.  We had some really nice neighbors.  But then, not long after we got Velvet, we moved to a wonderful house on Yalambi Avenue, in Yowie Bay, in the outskirts of Sydney.  I had to wear a uniform to school, it was navy blue.  I liked it though.  I would ride the bus but I had to walk to the bus stop.  

Our house was amazing.  It was at the bottom of a long driveway that wound around through the trees. My mother was terrified at first, driving down it.   In the back we had a patio and climbing up the hill behind the patio was a mass of plants and flowers.  Above the patio was a greenhouse filled with orchids.  Someone related to the owner of the house came and took care of them, and I rarely went inside.  Sometimes, though, I saw the caretaker and she would let me watch her water and pamper the flowers.  I never saw anything like them.  I actually didn’t like them very much, They seemed to fancy somehow, not like real flowers.  

Our house had a big lawn and then it dropped down to the water.  We had a pathway that led down to the pool, which was carved out of rock, and the tide filled and emptied the pool every day.  There was a rock wall and the water would flow through and over it and back out again.  My dad the engineer loved it.  

We had to be careful because creatures would wash in.  Usually, they were fish but one day we had a small shark in it.  We also had octopus.  My dad and I would sit on a rock above the pool and fish using drop lines.  We were pretty successful and often had our catch for dinner.  I remember once he caught an octopus and once he unraveled it from the line, he put it in a bucket of pool water with a board over it.  It stayed in there all afternoon, its tentacles wrapped around the board.  He eventually put it back in the bay.  

Every Saturday night, we had grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.  We would eat on the floor in the living room in front of the fire, like we were camping out.  Then I would like down with my head on Velvet,and listen to his heart beat.

Australia was absolutely wonderful.  It was one of the best times of my life.  I had a good friend, Elsa, and I rode horses a lot.  We had our wonderful dog, Velvet (“Bebby”) and I loved my school.  We had to wear a uniform, which was a long white shirt with a dark blue pleated outfit.    

I remember walking down that long driveway one day after school and realizing that I would be leaving soon.  I remember the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I remember kicking a stone in anger and watching it roll down the driveway.  And I remember thinking “I love every stick and stone of this place”.  

Yowie Bay

Yowie Bay

1953 My Poor Puppy

After we had been in Colombia a month or so we got a little puppy.  He was a mongrel of some kind, brown, with floppy ears.  He was really cute and I loved him a lot.  

One day after the usual summer torrential rain, the pavement was steaming and had that unique smell of hot wet asphalt.  I looked for the puppy, and then I saw him in the street.  He looked odd, like he was sniffing the road, and then he fell over.  I couldn't imagine what was wrong with him, so I went to get him, and his face was stuck to the road.  He was looking at me with his big brown eyes and somehow even at age 6, I knew.  

I ran crying to the house to get my dad, and he went and picked him up and took away, and I never saw him again.  I couldn’t stop seeing those eyes looking at me, saying help me.  That smell of hot, wet asphalt, is burned into my memory even now.  

My poor little puppy, I can't even remember his name.

1952 Normandy Version 1.0

We moved to Notre Dame de Gravenchon in early 1952 when I was about 4-1/2 years old.  My memories are pretty vague.  For probably one of the only times in my life, I don’t remember us having a dog.  I know I would not have forgotten if we had.  

Dot was our house

 On the other hand, we were only there around 2 years, maybe less.  My dad was working for the engineering company at the Port Jerome oil refinery.  At the time it was one of the biggest in Europe.  It was the first time my mother had lived out of the country, and I think she loved it.

The refinery at Port Jerome

We left Normandy in June 1953.  We traveled on the SS Liberte, the flagship of la Compagnie Generale Transatlantique (i.e., the French Line).  We had come from New York on the Ile de France, her sister ship.   I don’t remember that trip though.

When we got back to the US, we stayed with my aunt Audrey and uncle Abbey until we left for Colombia.