Ringo

When I tuned 10, we got a dog.  Not sure if it was for me necessarily, but that year the family decided we’d should have one.

He wasn’t any particular breed… just your basic heinz 57.  He was mostly black in color, with the exception of white paws and a white patch between his eyes.  We named him Ringo.

He grew up to be a beautiful looking dog. Big and solid, and very friendly.

The only problem was, he would never stay home.  Unless, of course he was chained up.  Which I don’t think any dog should have to live that way.

Ringo had a very ‘odd’ weakness.  When he’d leave our property, to go and check out the neighborhood, he couldn’t resist, clothes lines.  The first clothes line he’d see, with any kind of clothes hanging on it, he had to rip something off it. We saw him dragging home blankets, towels, long johns, shirts, you name it.

When I think back on that era of my life, I wonder if it was Ringo’s way of helping out.  Shopping for the family, so to speak.  None of the garments were ever used by us, and I’m sure most were returned, if they were in fact worth returning, and if we knew where it may have come from.  Yes, the town was so small, you got to know the color of some people’s underwear.

When the complaints started from the neighbours, we knew we had to do something.  I built him a house, and we had to tie him up permanently.  He hated it!  And because of that, he would bark non stop, day and night.  More complaints came in.

Suddenly, one night the barking stopped.   When I checked on him the next morning he was gone. Somehow he twisted off his chain during the night, and no doubt made a mad dash, for freedom.


We never saw Ringo after that night.  He may have ripped off his last pair of long johns, but he never lived to bring them home.

Today I believe Ringo is in doggy heaven, completely surrounded by clothes lines!