Detroit Tigers WJR Theme Music from the 1960s / 1970s
I think about the Tigers a lot in the summer. Great memories of this song. Take a listen!
Watson
Watson and me. My guess is this photo was taken in
summer, 1975 or 1976. It's probably the first photo
we had together. He's just a puppy here.
Watson was a funny dog. After the death of our family's beloved basset hound, Jenny, who lived to be 14-1/2, and passed away when I was five, I desperately wanted another canine companion. Watson came from the Huron Valley Humane Society on Cherry Hill Road. He was named after his veterinarian, Dr. Watson, and his name fit him perfectly (think the slightly dense Watson to the razor-witted Sherlock), so we decided not to rename him.
Watson was half basset hound, half cocker spaniel. There seems to be something in a mutt that makes them more indestructible. Watson would run away from home, once even prompting us to take out an ad in the local newspaper (yes, he was found). He also outlived two other dogs we adopted. The first, a pointer named Lindy, after Charles "Lucky" Lindbergh, was not as lucky as her namesake, and was killed by a car. She had been lost for a couple of days, and one morning, after being brought home from a sleepover at a friend's house, my mom and dad broke the news.
Shonto, our Irish setter joined the family in about 1979. He and Watson both came with my family to El Paso, and lived to be nine years old, and passed away after a short bout with cancer.
No, Watson was a survivor. I would make up songs about him. He could shed enough hair to clothe a family. And, surprisingly, those short, stumpy legs could carry him quite quickly.
Watson bridged a huge part of my life. From the time I was seven until I moved out from my parents' home at age 20, he was always there. He was there from my boyhood to my adulthood. And still there for a year after I had moved out.
Watson was half basset hound, half cocker spaniel. There seems to be something in a mutt that makes them more indestructible. Watson would run away from home, once even prompting us to take out an ad in the local newspaper (yes, he was found). He also outlived two other dogs we adopted. The first, a pointer named Lindy, after Charles "Lucky" Lindbergh, was not as lucky as her namesake, and was killed by a car. She had been lost for a couple of days, and one morning, after being brought home from a sleepover at a friend's house, my mom and dad broke the news.
Shonto, our Irish setter joined the family in about 1979. He and Watson both came with my family to El Paso, and lived to be nine years old, and passed away after a short bout with cancer.
No, Watson was a survivor. I would make up songs about him. He could shed enough hair to clothe a family. And, surprisingly, those short, stumpy legs could carry him quite quickly.
Watson bridged a huge part of my life. From the time I was seven until I moved out from my parents' home at age 20, he was always there. He was there from my boyhood to my adulthood. And still there for a year after I had moved out.
Watson, like Jenny, lived to be 14 years, passing away a good ol' boy in our backyard here in El Paso, Texas.
Popular posts from this blog
A summer cut with my dad, 24 years later
The perfect Father's Day in El Paso, Texas and Anthony, New Mexico. A wonderful breakfast from my wife. Presents from my wife and daughter. A movie and bowling with my father and daughter. After dinner, which my mom made for us all at their house in rural Anthony, New Mexico (only about 10 minutes from our house), my father broke out the old Double Ducks thinning scissors I mentioned in a previous post. They were still in their little red plastic case. And while my daughter watched, my dad trimmed my hair, 24 years after the last one he gave me before he moved to El Paso. And for a few minutes, I swear I was right back on the deck at 6508 Crane Road.
Getting a haircut on the deck
I never had a haircut from a barber until I was 14 or 15. I guess I never really thought too much about my appearance. It seems kids didn't think about that stuff as much back then. My dad was my barber. During the summer, we would sit up on our deck which overlooked our woods. The air would be sticky with humidity, and it was certain that horseflies or mosquitoes would be searching for a scalp or arm to make its victim. We'd coat ourselves with a thorough coating of Off to make sure we were left bug-free. I'd go shirtless, sit on one of the stumps that had been cut from out woods and my dad would break out his comb and two pair of shears. I'll never forget the name of the thinning ones: Double Ducks. They had a little red plastic carrying case. I had straight bangs on my forehead. In fact, I think I had the same cut from the time I was five until I reached about 14, when my dad moved before us to El Paso. Again, no worries. I was a kid. A cool haircut didn't matter...
Detroit Tigers WJR Theme Music from the 1960s / 1970s
I think about the Tigers a lot in the summer. Great memories of this song. Take a listen!
Comments
Post a Comment