Saturday, 5 January 2019

Fudge

Christmas, 1955, and our family stood on the porch to the door of our house, staring at the white blanket of two foot deep, pristine snow which covered the sweep of wide drive at the front.

Fudge - a miniature Daschund which had never seen snow before - suddenly slipped between legs in a short run-up and leapt out from the top of the three steps, forgetting that there were another two hidden in the drift.

He sunk completely, leaving a sausage dog-shaped hole on the surface, and my parents began to worry about ever seeing him again.

Shortly - like a Cormorant - he surfaced some distance away from his entry-hole and waited to be rescued.

I may have witnessed this, or I may have inherited the memory of it and claimed it as my own.

19 comments:

  1. This is such a sweet story I'd like to claim it as my own.

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  2. I heard that Daschunds with erections can't climb stairs = any truth in that Tom ?

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    1. What's the difference between a street-vendor and a dog with very short legs? The vendor bawls his wares out and the dog wears his balls out.

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  3. Memory is a strange thing. Whether it was real or inherited, yours is awfully nice. I love the visual of a sausage dog shaped hole in the snow!

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    1. Well it couldn't be the infamous Winter of 1963 because Fudge was dead by then.

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  4. Good thing you didn't own a Westie; it might never have been seen again!

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  5. It's a wonder your nasty brother didn't tell you to jump in after him.

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  6. You would have been four .... I can’t remember anything that happened when I was four. Perhaps I have a rubbish memory ! XXXX

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    1. I remember a lot from that age - especially the hospital experience.

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    2. I wrote a post last night that I didn't publish about my memory of kindergarten. I was 4 and I can remember and still see many things in my mind of that time.

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  7. Friends who live near Boston, Mass., dropped their front door key into a couple of feet of snow just outside their house. It took them a couple of hours to find it in spite of a key-shaped hole in the snow.

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    1. I often drop chisels into piles of stone chippings and only find them during the next clear-up. I don't clear up that often.

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