Of Dragons and Dogs

According to Chinese astrology this is the year of the water dragon, April is the dragon month and 13 a dragon day! So this date is lucky as a 'triple dragon' day, a bit rare. That tidbit is just for anyone who may be worried about Friday the 13th. I've never had any problems with the number 13. Although my favorite numbers are 3 and multiples of it, 4 is not a bad number and of course in numerology you add the digits of any non-ordinal number to find its core number--thus 13 is actually 4.

But I am also a dragon fan of sorts. A very specific style of dragon is associated with Wales and even appears on the Welsh flag--a handsome red dragon on a field of white over green. Quite striking! I loved the Dragon stories of Anne McCaffery and was saddened by her recent passing.

So on to dogs. I was thinking back about all the canine companions who have graced my life. The first one, according to what I know now, was an English Shepherd or at least that type. I do not have a scanned-in picture of him and only a couple of old black and whites but he looked a bit like the tri-colored dog in the picture above but with less white. Like Aussies (Australian Shepherds) and Border Collies, similar breeds, English Shepherds come in several color patterns although the 'merle' or tweedy mix of black or red with white for a blended color common in Aussies and Queensland Heelers is rare in them.

I got this dog as a weanling puppy for a birthday, I think my 10th or 11th. Flash, which was what I called my first pup, was a black tri--black and coppery tan with some white. He loved to run and was full of life and fun. At that time I had a scooter--rather simpler and cruder than the ones the kids have now --but I rode it up and down the sidewalk of our block in the small central Arizona town where we lived. Flash would run along inside the fence, leaping over the fences between each yard and barking with delight. Most of the neighbors did not seem to mind.

Sadly he came to an early and unhappy end. In those days in small western towns and rural areas, no one kept dogs up--no leash laws etc and my parents didn't believe in dogs in the house. Flash ran free with other neighbor dogs and got into trouble. He ended up shot with a b-b gun or a .22 and the wound did not show thru his fur so we didn't realize until he had develped fatal peritonitis. The loss broke my heart but he always has a special place in my memory and will be leading the pack when I meet my furred friends at the foot of the Rainbow Bridge. Once I was grown each pet I had got more care and attention from my greater knowledge and most lived long and relatively happy lives. Next time you will hear about Mickey McCue and then perhaps Angus and Alanna.