Critters
I’m so glad God made critters for us to watch, enjoy, admire, and love.
On the home front, I’ve loved several dogs and cats. Among them was LuLuBelle, a stray mutt brought to our family by a neighbor on Joslen Boulevard named Lou Hannet. This dog apparently had been beaten and mistreated, but became our family protector, object of our love, and subject to another kind of maltreatment, a clothes model, a horsey for kid rides, and a doll by rolled around in a carriage. I’m sure there was never such a patient animal created for our pleasure.
Always the first to jump in the car for a ride, she assumed the position on the back right corner seat of the station wagon, with her head outside the sliding window, ears flapping in the breeze. Dogs these days are so restricted by car designs. People even tell us to use seatbelts to secure them. LuLuBelle knew what complete freedom was, and matter of fact, so did we! No air-conditioning, no seatbelts, just reckless abandon.
Afraid of thunder, this sweet dog would huddle under the piano bench, trembling, waiting for me to sit down and play to make the thunder disappear. She trusted me implicitly to make things better for her. In the evenings, she would take her place behind Dad’s lounge chair; of course, he was her least favorite companion. He just did not like dogs at all. She responded with her sad brown eyes, trying hard to make him her friend. While he rested his hands on the armrest, she’d try repeatedly to insert her cold, black nose into his palm so he would acknowledge that she respected the man of the house, and just wanted to be acknowledged. He’d respond with a tap on the head, and she’d feel fulfilled for yet another day, loving the master who merely tolerated her.
In our days of growing up, our play companion never knew leash laws or fences. Usually she was wherever we were, cavorting and protecting. But in her wanderings, she brought us gifts of baby rabbits from nests she raided, a pregnancy and puppies courtesy of the farm collie down the road, and burrs in her fur and stinking fur from a skunk attack. All were adventures of growing up with a beloved pet. She knew to quickly respond to mom’s signal, the honk of the car horn three times, which was her summons to all of us to come a’runnin’. LuLuBelle lived long enough to see us all grow up. Mom finally had her put to sleep when I was in college, and I remember coming home and missing her thumping tail as the usual greeting, her own way of saying “Hi!” Memories of her antics, her love, her beautiful warm fur, and her companionship brighten our thoughts. We’ve often wondered if there’s a doggie heaven. Maybe we’ll see her again in God’s perfect place In paradise. If so, there will be broad smiles from the Whitakers who loved LuLuBelle.
About the Author
