Today is the anniversary of the day that started it all. Our very first dog, Spunky, was born on August 15, 1967. He was six weeks old in this picture. I was nine.
We'd begged our mom for a dog forever. She finally agreed because she didn't want us to come home from school to an empty house. Mom had to work full time - she was a widow at 36 and we had a nasty habit of wanting to eat every single day.
It was a different era. There was no such thing as a "latchkey kid." We were the only kids from a single-parent family - divorce was still scandalous. We didn't have a clue we were different - we had friends, family, and our wonderful Boston Terrier puppy.
I'm rather horrified by all the mistakes we made with this dog. And astonished by how well he turned out. When you know better, you do better. I'm sure our dogs of today are grateful we're highly trainable.
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