So many changes…
When I was little, my parents wouldn’t let me have a pet. Until, that is, our next-door neighbor gave me a kitten. A fuzzy, adorable little white kitten that I named “Snowball.” I loved that kitten SO much, but my father could not tolerate the cat going potty in OUR bathroom, so the cat became an “out-door” cat. Until the wonderful neighbor next door had an accident in the driveway that prevented Snowball from ever going potty again. Anywhere!
My Grandpa Covert was an avid hunter. He and his buddies loved to go out in the country and hunt. Everyone at that time who hunted had a rifle and a hunting dog or two. Grandpa’s dog’s name was “Jody.” But Jody left this world before I could ever pet her. She was a beautiful black and white Springer Spaniel who looked much like this:
I don’t know where he got this little girl… she’s quite heavy to pick up (for a 3 year old, that is). I wanted a dog that I could walk on a leash. So Grandpa made this leash for her so that I could pull her around on top of his desk. The leash is still on her, and she sits on the ledge in my kitchen. When my boys were little, one of them tried to take her leash off, and I got REALLY upset! Nobody takes Jody’s leash off except me or Grandpa! The leash has been there since I was 3, and to this day, I refuse to take it off. It’s a connection to Grandpa.
This Memorial Day marks a special day for me… and for my father. Every Memorial Day since I can remember (or a few days before Memorial Day,) Dad and I have made a trip in the car to Davison Cemetery to put flowers on his parents’ graves, as well as a few other relatives’ graves. This year, Dad will not be going with me. He now lives in Arizona near my brother, so the torch has been passed and I will keep it going for him. It gives me a chance to talk to Grandpa, and let him know that I still think about him, Grandma and Jody with her leash.