The Star - News, views and advertising of the Grand Coulee Dam Area

It is said that a dog is man’s best friend.

If this is true for you, then you have a serious problem. I’ve only had one dog that ever came close, and I will get to that in a minute.

My first dog was a collie/shepherd mix, called “Scottie.”

I remember how he would sit out on the lawn until he could see me in the distance coming home from school. He had a body clock that would tell him that I would come into view soon. He could see me drop down off North Hill when I was about an eighth of a mile away, and he would come running down the road to where I was.

I liked the dog, but he wasn’t my best friend. One day Scottie took after my uncle Ralph, my dad’s brother. That was the end for him.

My next dog was a dachshund. I always liked them and thought it would be fun to have a wiener dog.

That was a big mistake.

We named him Mickey. Not my best friend either.

He barked a lot and kept us up. So, one evening I took him to an adjacent building, made him a bed, with water and food. I chained him to a 4x4 support beam. I went down the next morning after a good night’s sleep. Mickey had chewed on the 4x4. He chewed up a couple of books, so I advertised him as free. A couple came to see the dog and advised me that the breed was difficult and that you had to know how to handle them. Not a surprise to me.

I had taken Mickey to a day trip to Mt. Rainier earlier, and when we left to drive down the dog was missing. So, we drove back up and a car coming down flagged us down to return he dog.

Anyway, Mickey was history and no “best friend.”

Our next dog was really my wife’s farm dog, PeeWee. It might have been her best friend, but it certainly wasn’t mine.

The dog used to go downtown with my wife when she went shopping and would sit outside the store and wait. PeeWee was later returned to the farm.

My next dog was a white multi-breed dog. I think it had a racial bias. We named it “Snow.” We were involved with a student program at the UW, and one time we had a number of African and Asian students at the house. Snow would circle the room glancing up at the students and make a guttural growl.

Snow was not my best friend, and the students were gracious about the dog.

My next dog came closest to “best friend’ status.

We were on a vacation trip to Yellowstone and the Tetons. Our oldest son, Paul, made the trip with us.

We went to Cody, Wyoming on a side trip. While there, we went into a junk store and that’s where I found my next dog. It was a papier-mâché duplicate, full size, of the Budweiser Beer dog “Spuds.”

I bought it for a few bucks. It occupied the back seat with Paul.

I pulled over at a wide spot and said that Spuds needed to go to the bathroom. We took the dog out of the car and later resumed our drive. We stopped several times for old Spuds, and Paul and I had a good time with him.

That’s the closest I ever came to a “best friend” dog.

We had a second dog, I guess to keep Snow company. I got the dog, named “Pup Pup.” We never were creative when naming a pet. We also had a cat named “Kitty.”

Anyway, Pup Pup had a habit of rushing to me when I came home from work and peeing on my shoes. We had the dog for about 14 years. It was certainly not my best friend.

We got another dog by accident. I stopped in Grand Coulee one day to look at some pups being sold out of the trunk of a car. I thought it would be a good companion for my great granddaughter Kaylee. She proudly took the dog, but it was returned to us, she was just too young for the responsibility.

We still have the dog, named “Abby.”

She also is not in the best friend category.

She is crowding 12 years old now. The family just tolerates her.

We made the mistake of feeding it table scraps.

A neighbor said we should go see an animal psychiatrist in Omak. We took the dog, and the animal doctor said we should stop feeding her people food. Those words of wisdom cost $125.

We also made the mistake of letting Abby sleep on our bed.

That was a grave mistake. Now she whines and I have to get up and put her out. It’s usually two to three times a night, and it has been as many as five times.

I have trouble getting to sleep and getting up, so this often means often I don’t get enough sleep.

Abby is not my best friend.

So, if someone tells you that a dog is man’s best friend, you could accurately reply, that’s not always the case.