|Ron and Horace January 1984|
The new year is here. Do we say "twenty-twelve" or "two-oh-one-two?" Personally I go for the "twenty-twelve.
I'm feeling pretty good about this year. I have everything in place. The mortgage is paid off. I'm settled in my job. I've made all my health decisions. I have (some) money in the bank for a cushion in case of emergency.
Bill's health is pretty good (for an 83 year old man). We're happy and contented. Oh sure, we still have our little flare-ups but that is part and parcel of our relationship. Fire and ice. Water and oil. We are so different that we're a total match. Just like Ying and Yang (look it up).
All is not perfect in Ron Land though. I do miss having a Little Buddy. After our last little dog died (Horace, who is pictured above) in 1998, Bill decided that we would never get another dog because their loss is just too hard to bear.
We have had a total of five Pomeranian dogs. We had two when we lived in Philadelphia. They were Hamburger and Sparky. Perhaps not the most original names but they fit those two pooches perfectly.
|Christmas 1970 in Philadelphia with Hamburger and Sparky - our first two Poms|
Shortly after we moved to Downingtown, PA in 1981, both of them died. At that time Bill didn't want to get any more dogs. However, one day I brought a little orange fluff of fur home on the train from work at my banking job in Philadelphia. I made the mistake of stopping in a pet shop after seeing this orange fluff frolicking in the pet shop window. After I sent in the store to inquire as to how much something like that would cost (believe me, I had NO INTENTION of buying him) the store owner said "Here, hold him." That did it of course. I walked out of the store with him in a box, back to my job. I was on lunch break.
I put the puppy and the box he was in behind my desk until the end of the day's work. He was quiet the whole time. What a dog! I took him and the cardboard pet carrier that he was on in the train home to Downingtown. Of course there were no pets allowed on the train. So I had to smuggle him on the train.
After having spent four or more hours in the cardboard pet carrier he started to whimper. I put my hand in the box and he stopped. I kept my hand in the box for the hour ride home.
Bill picked me up at the train station. As I was getting in the car he said "What's in the box?" I told him that I got a dog. He said "WHAT?! Of course he told me that I had to take him back.
I knew what I had to do. When we got home I asked Bill to hold him. That did it.
|Bill and Horace - after I asked Bill to hold him - how could he resist?|
This little orange fluff that I picked up in a pet shop for $300 in the spring of 1983 I named "Horace." He was my best friend for 16 years. He was the only dog I had that picked me as his master. Our family has had pets and Bill and I had dogs before but they always picked someone else. Horace picked me.
|Me and my buddy Horace - the Next Day after his arrival|
Horace died in 1998. His death was one of the few times in my life that I broke down into a full blown painful, collapsing cry. I had lost my best friend. I lost my Companion for Life.
|Horace at his favorite spot - my lap|
Someday, if I'm lucky I'll try to hit the jackpot again and look for another buddy like Horace. We were inseparable.
|An Old Horace - a few months before he died -1998|
The picture at the top of this blog was taken in January 1984, twenty-eight years ago. I want that unconditional love again. I believe I will have it...someday.
|Horace loved to go for a ride - this was one of his last|