Everyday until Christmas, I am going to try to post a picture from a past family Christmas.
It looks like he is wearing a party hat. Maybe it was New Years Eve. The back of the picture just says, “Taby 1948”. I think he was a mutt, but don’t know what mixture of breeds he might have been. I was about three when we was taken away.
I have a vague recollection of Taby. He was my parent’s dog when I was born. I believe Taby was my father’s dog before he married. My parents lived with my grandmother when they were first married so Taby knew their house. When my parents moved to an apartment across town Taby would go back and forth between the two places. My mother said that he was very good with me. I was told that the neighbors complained about him. I don’t know what he did to upset the neighbors, but it became impossible for my parents to keep him in an apartment. I have often wondered why my grandparents didn’t take him. They had a dog and apparently when my parents lived there the dogs got along. But the sad story is that we had to get rid of Taby. My father took him to a shelter “Orphans of the Storm”. I was promised when my parents bought a house we would get a dog and we did. We never gave up another one. They are with us until they take their last breath. I am a big believer that when you get a dog you keep it. They are not a piece of furniture that you throw away. Every time I see a picture of Taby, it breaks my heart. Just writing about Taby brings tears to my eyes. I wonder what happened to him, and I hope he got a good forever home.