Monday, July 29, 2013

Monday Memory: Logan the Dog

Our family used to have a small little fluffy dog named Logan. I can't remember where we got the dog, nor do I remember an extensive search for the perfect dog for our family. I just know that one day we didn't have him, and the next we did. I think at one time he was intended to be my brother's dog, but that idea didn't last long.

As a puppy I think his time was split indoor/outdoor, but when he got older he was exclusively an outside dog. Our yard was fenced and there was no worry about him getting on the road. At that time, he was actually pretty fun for us kids. My sister and I would push him around in our baby doll strollers and I think we put more than one dress on him. Apparently I thought I could teach him to be a draft dog and used him to pull me around the sidewalk on our little scooter.
Unfortunately, when we moved to our first house in Oregon, times weren't so good for Logan. We lived in a house that was right across the street from the school, so most kids in town walked right by Logan every morning and every afternoon. The yard wasn't fenced so he had to be chained up and kids often made a cruel game of using Logan for rock-throwing target practice. Our fun fluffball turned quite mean and whenever he wasn't chained in the yard, he had to be leashed by one of us. He would bark at anyone who walked by the house and went absolutely nuts when a baseball game or other activity was going on across the street. On one occasion Logan got loose and actually bit the UPS man as he made a delivery to our front porch. It was definitely not an ideal situation for our family or the dog.

One summer my brother and sister and I spent a couple of weeks at our grandparents' house. Upon our return, our parents sat us down and explained that while we were gone, Logan's problems got worse. Dad told us he knew a family with a large farm who were happy to take him and that he heard Logan was doing well with all that land to run around and no kids throwing rocks at him. My siblings and I were initially bummed, but quickly realized a farm with lots of land was a much better place for him and were happy Logan had this new, perfect home.

I wanted this fairy tale story to be true, but as the oldest child, I think I was the first to realize I had never before heard my dad talk about this particular farm family, and Logan would actually probably have been a horrible farm dog - completely unable to do any typical farm-dog tasks. I also thought it was just a little too convenient that this particular perfect option became available only when all the kids were gone for a few weeks. I didn't share this information with my brother and sister, figuring they'd put the pieces together themselves one day. Although, whenever we asked, my parents dutifully stood by the farm story. By the time I left for college years later, Logan and the Farm had become a bit of a family legend, but my parents still didn't budge when it came to divulging what really happened.

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