A Bridge Over Troubled Waters

Dogs I Have Known 1: Clown

We once had a dog.

We once had a dog named Clown.

We once had a dog named Clown, and he was a real live son of a bitch.

Clown was trained to chase cars.  I kid you not.

A brief biography is in order.  A male relative was in the military, and he came into possession of a puppy whose tail was mostly gone.  And the tip of what was left was bent at a right angle.  (That had to hurt, poor pup!)  What to do?  The little critter stole his heart.

Well, this relative was stationed in a desert.  Plenty of room to raise a dog.  1 game that they'd play was letting Clown chase the soldier's car.  (Bachelors.  Go figure.  Dead from the neck up, the lot of us.  And I mean that in the kindest, possible way.)  Snicker, snicker.

1 constant about being in the military is that you go — where they send you — when they send you.  Soldier boy got sent where a pet dog couldn't go.  Therefore, he gave Clown to my parents.  I was a teen at the time, as I recall.  I simply don't recall (at this precise moment) how old I was.

My parents owned 27.5 acres of rural property, mostly forested.  Moreover, they had once belonged to a kennel club.  Owning a dog was not a problem for them.

Clown was a smart dog.  Dad would drop morsels of food at dinner time.  (Begging for food is a part of natural canine psychology.  It's an integral part of canine society that starts in puppyhood and extends into adulthood.)  Here's a play-by-play:

1)  Dinnertime.  Clown would be on station, sitting besides, or near, Dad's chair.

2)  Dad would deliberately drop some food onto the floor.

3)  Clown would briefly look down at the morsel.

4)  Clown would look up at Dad.

5)  If no more food was forthcoming, — then — Clown would eat the morsel!

Dad found this greatly amusing.  (My opinion: Clown-sensei had trained Daddy-san well.  Kudos, Clown-sensei.  You did well to honor your doggy-fu.  We who are about to yap salute you.)

Less amusing was that our closest neighbor had a working farm, including cows and horses.  Being trained to chase cars did NOT endear Clown to either neighbor or livestock.  Not happy.  Nope.  Like many dogs, both thunder and fireworks terrified Clown.  (At the time, I secretly suspected that Clown had been shot at a few times.)

Clown wasn't a huge dog, and I now suspect that he was part border collie.  This is due to both his appearance and his behavior.

Walking Clown wasn't exactly easy.  On a leash, he would strain it.  He was not the type to walk "politely?" by your side.  Off the leash, I didn't walk Clown.  He would walk me.  He would forge ahead maybe 20 or more feet (6, 7, or more meters).  Then he'd stop, look over his left shoulder to see if I was still following him, then he'd go on further.

Somehow, we'd end up where we both wanted to go.  Sure, he often led, but I had some input as well.  Often enough, we shared companionable silence on our excursions.  I don't recall usually regarding Clown as a pet, per se.  Sure, I was aware that he was a dog.  Clown was my friend.  We understood each other, socially speaking.  Methinks, I was closer to Clown than to some of my own siblings.

Another thing about walking Clown: getting in the way when he chose to pee was NOT a good idea.

For a while, we owned another dog along with Clown.  I'll get to her soon.

Sometimes, I had to walk both dogs at once.  Night and day different.  I'm unsure if Clown ever actually peed on that other dog, but I do recall a number of close calls.  Neither dog seemed to care.

1 of my fondest, childhood memories was 1 winter when our swamp froze over.  There was a grove of diminutive, scraggly tress growing in our swamp.  It wasn't a huge swamp: maybe a few acres.  Since the ice was fairly flat, Clown and I crawled on our bellies through that grove.

I don't recall why we had to sale Clown.  It may have been a combination of financial and neighborhood issues.  At the time, I don't think that I was terribly emotional about it.  But I can say that I was not happy about it.  It was an unpleasant necessity, and we still had another dog.

[Edited 23 December 2023.]