Many years ago we had a Samoyed Husky named Skipper. The term Samoyed is taken from the Samoyedic peoples of Siberia. They were nomadic reindeer herders who bred the fluffy white dogs for herding and to pull sleds. These dogs are strong, intelligent and have a perpetual smile on their face. Samoyeds are classed as a working dog, but our dog Skipper was more of a comedian and jester!
|Samoyed - Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons.|
I was the one who named him Skipper, after Skipper on Gilligan's Island. My softhearted father brought him home one day because some atrocious swine was going to drown him. He was only six weeks old. A white cuddly ball of fluff that waddled like a duck when he walked!
Skipper stayed outside in the backyard. He was smart, too smart in fact, and very fun loving. He enjoyed it when my grandmother, Babcia in Polish, worked in her flower garden. She had an expert green thumb and could make anything grow. Babcia tenderly took care of a great variety of flowers. Her labor of love produced exquisite blossoms. She liked peonies best. After all of her toil, she would wrap up her tools in a canvas sheet to protect them.
My father once told me a cute story about Skipper and my grandmother. Babcia was in the backyard doing her weeding, and the dog was sitting near the corner of the house just watching her. She had all of her tools behind her on the grass within reach. After breaking up some soil for a while, she turned around to get her weeder... but it was gone! "I'm sure I brought everything out," she muttered. There was only the dog and she in the yard. "Oh well, " she declared, "I'll just go and get another one." Off she went to the basement for another one.
She started weeding happily again, put the tool down and worked with her hands for a bit, then she reached back for the weeder... but it was gone again! "What's going on? I lay down my weeder for a minute and it disappears?" she protested. Surveying the yard once again, there was still only she and the dog. Tromping back to the basement in great annoyance, she grabbed yet another weeder. Only this time she put the tools in front of her!
After finishing all of her work, Babcia wrapped her tools in the canvas sheet and tied it up with a rope. She disappeared into the basement for a time, and when she came back out for her bundle - it was undone and the tools were spread out all over the grass! Shocked, my grandmother quickly looked around to see if she could catch a glimpse of the culprit causing all of this mischief, but no, only she and the dog were there.
By this time Babcia was beginning to fume! Now she had to gather all of the tools again and tie it together for the second time! While she was binding them up, she kept a close eye all around to see if the offender was watching and waiting for another full-scale assault. Babcia turned her back for a moment, and sure enough the guilty party appeared! Skipper very stealthily snuck up, untied the rope with his teeth, and then zoomed around the corner! I didn't even know he knew how to do that!
Babcia ran after him shouting, "You joker!" When she rounded the corner, to her utter astonishment she discovered where that delinquent dog had stashed his hoard! All of her utensils were there in a nice, neat little pile. Caught like a rat in a trap! "So, you're the one who's been stealing my tools!" she scolded. Skipper sat there looking quite unremorseful.
So there it was, every time my grandmother would turn her back, Skipper would silently creep up and heist a tool. He'd run like lightening around the corner of the house, drop the goods then come back and sit down to watch her like an innocent angel!
Skipper, being the consummate con artist, began licking Babcia's face and clowning around after she laid into him. By time she got him calmed down, she forgot why she was ever angry with him in the first place. It never hurts to play up the, 'Look at me, aren't I cute?' angle - the little scoundrel!
Skipper lived to be 18 years old. He had a long and roguish life. He never grew up, only older. He never lost his love of play nor his talent for buffoonery. Don't get the wrong idea though, this dog never liked to play the fool, but he sure liked playing you for a fool!
I am Gail Marie Kocznur. Adoring all animals, I know what a beloved pet means to you. I have had nine cherished dogs myself with many amusing stories to tell. Visit my website at the link below to see full colored pet portraits that I lovingly render in pastel and artist pencils.
Article Source: EzineArticles