The story of Charlie the Cocker Spaniel
Please note, this is NOT my photo, just one that I found that reminds me of what Charlie looked like. Credit: Sheila Vessar
http://www.zimfamilycockers.com/cockers.html
All my early life I had begged for a dog. Or a pony. Or a dog riding a pony! (Wouldn't that have been swell!?) My parents eventually conceded (to a dog, not a pony) when my youngest brother was a bit more than a toddler. (I distinctly remember him discovering the day that he no longer fit underneath our big kitchen table - stood up underneath and BONK!!! He plopped back onto his diapered bum and had quite a nice goose egg. Still, he's a certified genius, so he must not have destroyed his math-ability-center. But more on that theory at a later time.)
A dog! A dog! We were getting a dog!
My excitement could hardly be contained by a squadron of fighter pilots in tight formation outside an Australian jellyfish barricade! (Just go with me on that one, I'm trying to break away from cliche!) Here he was, Charlie, a silky-eared, wavey-coated blonde ball of gorgeousness! He was sweet, loveable, so very, very soft.... and, as we discovered, practically mentally deficient in every way. This poor dog was so dumb that when he was chained out, he'd actually get stuck on the tiniest little twig out there, and be inconsolably upset by his short tether, not figuring out how to get himself untangled from a mere stripling tree. He was a good sport, however, and in my infancy of dog training, I decided the slide at the playground was going to be the PERFECT opportunity to elicit amazing tricks, astonish the neighborhood kids, overcome my painful shyness (no one believes this, but I was terribly, excruciatingly, desperately shy most of my childhood!) and Charlie was going to be amazing and was clearly my ticket to fame, fortune, and friendship.
(Unlike one of my blog heroes and the source of my primary motivation for starting up my own blog, Allie Brosh, I'm still naively in love with alliteration and apologize profusely to her for my blatant overuse if she ever happens to read my blog - which she won't because she's a self-professed grammar police and I try to at least use punctuation correctly. Mostly. Also, don't become addicted to her blog and stop reading mine, because that would be tragic irony. Even if she is better at grammar.)
While Charlie wasn't particularly a candidate for most astonishing canine phenomenon of 1980-something something, I can't speak to my own personal child genius level either, because rather than take him on a leash, in the early days of my new-found dog training career, I'd just unclip the entire length of tie-out chain. I can't even possibly tell you how many torn-up hands and scraped Achilles tendons I suffered when he'd randomly go charging off after a cat, a squirrel, a dandelion fluff (much like Lady after the rat in Lady & the Tramp), barking furiously and dragging his undersized and scraggly human along with in a tangle of silky fur, dog chain and sparkly glitter jelly shoes.
Anyway, my adventures in dog training very nearly killed one or the other of us daily. I'd start by climbing the slide's ladder in our playground, coaxing Charlie to follow. There must've been 20 steps up that ladder. Possibly 50. More likely 100 steps. I'm pretty sure that slide was at least 3 stories tall of shiny, butt-polished, gleaming metal that was scorching hot in summer, and desperately dangerous for attracting and keeping bare skin in winter. Invariably, during our attempts to learn to climb the slide, Charlie would slip off the ladder's steps, and dangling precariously from the end of the leash (eventually I wizened up and used a leash after approximately 40% of the skin surface of my hands was turned to mauled hamburger bits) and I'd bolt down the steps as quickly as possible to avoid strangling the poor beastie, and start the process again. This was in no way intended as cruelty, please note. And, my dad, at 6'3" could hold me up on top of that slide, so I'm sure it wasn't as prodigious as my mind makes it seem. Charlie was in no *real* danger of death by strangulation, though I can't say in retrospect that any form of oxygen-deprivation, even momentarily, was good for his tiny befuddled brain.......
You know, Albert Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Well, I may have been in the advanced reading section, but no one ever gave me that quote to read. Charlie and I trekked to the playground day after day, me coaxing and cajoling and encouraging that Cocker Spaniel to overcome our mutual fear of heights and conquer the slide. Eventually I learned that if he went up the ladder first, I could actually catch him when he slipped off. It's a wonder all our bones and both skulls remained intact, and there were some close calls, I can tell you.
You know how when you're a kid everything seems so much bigger than when you're an adult? Not only is your perspective skewed because you're a miniature human, but literally everything seems so much larger, grander, more amazing and awe-inspiring? Well, I had the unfortunate experience of re-visiting my elementary school as an adult. I can't truly express the shock and disappointment I felt looking at the "Big Fort" and felt that hollow feeling of shame at how very gloriously proud of it we'd been after it's construction. It had a pole, and a slide, and a tire swing, and we were positively sure that it was the most awesome of forts in all playgrounds in all schools in all the world. Or at least Montana. Or at least our town. Anyway, IT WAS AWESOME! However, as a much larger human being revisiting my old school, I was shocked by how small the "Big Fort" truly was. And we won't even discuss the "Small Fort." If you ever have the opportunity to visit childhood haunts, steel yourself. The dismay I felt was unprecedented.
And by the end, Charlie would do the slide all by himself and would actually enjoy it! I'd say: Mission accomplished! I may still not have had any friends, but I had a dog that could go down a slide! Pretty darn cool, if you asked me! And neither of us died!
And in a giant nod to 99% of my inspiration to start my own blog, (as well as encouragement from a least a dozen and a half friends polled on Facebook, my birthday twin Beth, and also the support of my wonderful mom who encourages me through everything from learning to ice skate, which didn't stick, and horseback riding, which did...)
The inimitable Allie Brosh at Hyperbole and a Half, http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html
(This lady was raised in MT and ID, is a UM alumnus, and is so hilarious she makes me CRY laughing! Seriously!)
And for a segue to a hilariously spot-on post about Jelly Shoes, see here: http://bestofthe80s.wordpress.com/2010/04/27/jelly-shoes/
And my darling friend Beth's blog: http://smallthingssoulthings.blogspot.com/
Cheers!
-Sirens Echo
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