Tippy

I was told that Tippy was adopted from the Murphy's across the street whose dog had puppies some time before I was born. The Murphy's was Tippy's second home when we were out for the day or on those occasions he got in trouble and yelled at. He'd run over there and hide behind their house. 

My own memories of Tippy was that he was always following someone around and was a pretty good old guard dog save for the perpetually wagging tail. When I was alone outside playing by myself, which I did in the winter a lot after supper, Tippy served as my guard dog of sorts. I don't recall him barking much but he stood watch as a sentinel, always nearby. I'd swing on the bag swing or slip and slide around in the snow. I loved being outside in the yard at night - I suppose because I lived in my head a lot and had a constant narrative going on; sort of meditative, really. Tippy had an ongoing role in my inner dialogue and it was like he knew that, too. He was my "ranger", standing guard with a sharp eye on any movement while I whiled away the evening in my own little world. If anyone was aware of me hanging around outside making snow angels or sliding around in the street with my excellent slippery-bottomed rubber boots, they didn't worry much about me out there alone because Tippy was always standing sentry, ready to down anyone unknown who might enter the yard and mess with his kids. 

Tippy enjoyed the free life before leash laws, going out in the morning and not returning again until later or nighttime - unless a storm was brewing or someone set off a round of caps. He would high-tail it home at the sound of thunder or fireworks. Mama would stand on the back steps shooting off Dick or Ron's cap gun to get him home - it must have been a crazy sight for anyone passing by. Since he wasn't neutered, he had his times when the only way to keep him home safe was to tie him to the clothesline, but otherwise he was free to roam the countryside. 

It's amazing that he was never hit or hurt by a car, especially since he had a particular interest in the Patrick's dog FiFi, a miniature poodle. He would sit in the road in front of their house on Leland and pine, sometimes so overwhelmed by his love he'd just lie down and fall asleep. We got more than one call to say someone thought he'd been hit, only to find him snoozing in the middle of Leland. Mrs. Patrick was a nut anyway, but she got especially agitated when she saw Tippy and would chase him with a broom. He'd take to sitting juuuuuust far enough away that she could only yell at him. When I would cross the field to play with Kathy Chiodo, he'd sneak his way across the field after me knowing full well that the Chiodo's had a dog, too, who wasn't fond of Tippy entering his domain. I'd send Tippy home, but during the course of the day, we'd have to look over at the field to gage his progress - the black ear would protrude up over the weeds and get closer and closer each time we looked up. Every so often he'd breach the boundary and have a dog fight with Lasso, only to be chased back across the road by Mrs. Chiodo and HER broom. 

Keeping Tippy from following me was a daily issue. Was it the same for all of us? I'm sure it was. I'd see glimpses of him being chased away from Southtown Pool, Safeway, Whitakers, and Maple Grove. He had this way of covertly pursuing me/us.

When I'd come home for lunch from Maple Grove he'd sneak behind me on my way back. Turn and look - there goes a black shape running into the bushes way back there. Turn again and I'd spot him just as he jump out of sight again. He was clever! I'd give up and try to lose him at Safeway, going in the Leland side door and out the other side to head on to school. A dog caught on the school grounds meant the dogcatcher was called. Poor Tippy would sit in the front big window of Safeway watching for me all afternoon until school let out.

What's that blue stuff on mah face?

Hazelnut is happy when we return home, no matter how long we're gone - a minute or 5 hours. Tippy was smart and sweet, but he hated when we'd go to Gramps for the day and he held a grudge. Maybe it was everyone piling into the station wagon that tipped him off, I'm not sure - but he would sit on the front lawn as we left and refuse to look at us as we yelled goodbyes from the car. He was upset we left without him, I think. Returning home in the late afternoon, I'd look everywhere for him and finally spot his white muzzle and black nose peeking out from behind the Murphy's house. He'd go there to sulk and watch us unload from afar. It took some coaxing to get him home, but when he finally came he was overjoyed - wagging and mumbling, telling us all about how upset he'd been while we were gone, I'm sure. I don't remember Tippy barking much, but he did mumble when he was excited and happy.

I shared my cereal (Crispy Critters was a mutual favorite) with him, and sadly, half my bag of M&Ms everytime I got them. I'd sort out the reds and blues, he got the browns. To this day I think that his cancer was likely due to eating all the terrible things I fed him without a clue that they were harmful. But he lived to be 14 years old and a loyal, smart, loving sweetheart of a dog to the end.