LITTLE MISSY MAUD

One of my ongoing and never-ending projects is to figure out what to do with all my photographs - and then do it! It is a thankless job, for it seems the more I do, the more I do, the more I do….ad infinitum.

But once in a while I see something that takes me on a nice trip of reminiscing. Blogs often are made of these little serendipities.

When Jer and I decided to sell our house prior to going to Turkey I took pictures of each room to use in a little booklet I wanted to put in our entryway for “lookers” to take home with them, a visual reminder of what our house was like. The booklet turned out well and sure enough, the house was sold. Today I ran across those original photos and when I looked at the one above of our master bedroom, I had to do a double-take. If you look closely, you will see our little dog, Missy Maud, ensconced between the headboard and the pillow. It was her favorite place to sleep

I’ve isolated that little section so you can see her more clearly.


Missy was a dream dog. We got her in 1981. She was a “found” dog that was brought into the veterinary office where my cousin was working. Less than a year old, she was dirty and bedraggled, but she got a full restorative treatment from my cousin, who was the world’s most compassionate vet. After making all appropriate efforts to find who she might belong to, my cousin called me and asked me if I’d be interested in a cute little female dog that needed a home. I drove down to take a look, and here’s what I found.


I had never had a dog of my own. I took one look and Missy and I marched out the door together. She had to be integrated into a family with three cats. Luckily it was a good match and they got along well. She was smart and playful. She didn't make demands and she didn't bark all the time. The only problem we ever had was that she absolutely abhorred baths. When she knew it was bath time, she put on what I called her “hangdog” face.


It went on the minute she heard the water run and didn’t disappear until she was washed, dried and set down on the floor again to play. To make sure we knew how distasteful she found being bathed, the minute her little feet touched the water, she discharged a small poop. She did this for 14 years. Being quick learners, we always put a paper towel beside the tub and made quick use of it when the time arrived!

That was her only bad feature. As she got older and her mind got a little fuzzy, she began thinking that she owned the neighborhood. When I took her for walks I had to pick her up if I saw another dog being walked toward us. I’d hold her in my arms and cover her eyes with my hand as we passed. If I didn’t do that, she would puff herself up to about twice her size and act like an attack dog. Luckily she was small enough for us to do this to her, and there were never any untoward incidents. Except for the neighbors laughing at her.

In her 14th year she took sick and quite unexpectedly fell over dead from a stroke. It was hard to lose her, of course, but we had lots of good pictures to remind us of our time together.

I had forgotten that her favorite place to sleep during her naptime was on our bed between the headboard and the pillow.