Tuffy

Gran and Grandpa had a dog named Tuffy. Tuffy was a beautiful white fluffy dog with large black spots, and a brown golden retriever-like head. He was obviously a mix of some sort, probably Australian shepherd and Golden retriever.

I adored Tuffy beyond all reason. He would sneak upstairs, and come into our room and sleep at the foot of my bed. This gave me unspeakable joy. I felt so honored, so special, that Tuffy loved me enough to pick MY bed to sleep on. I loved that dog.

One night, I must have wriggled to the foot of the bed in my sleep, and stretched out and apparently kicked Tuffy accidentally. He snapped at me, and I woke up, scared, confused and not sure what was going on. The light was on and Gran and Grandpa were yelling at me. "What did you do to the dog???" they demanded. I was too sleepy to know what had even happened, and Gran took Tuffy off my bed and said that would be the last time he would be allowed to sleep with me. I cried myself to sleep that night, and missed him terribly from then on. I tried every way I could to entice him to come into my room again, and sometimes he would sneak in, but Gran always came and got him and took him away. I worried that Tuffy would think I no longer loved him, and did not want him on my bed. I worried that he would wonder what he had done wrong to be punished in such a way.

Gran always said that Tuffy was Brigid's dog. She said they brought him home as a puppy for Brigid's birthday.  I thought Brigid was the luckiest person on the planet to own such a wonderful pet. I loved Tuffy so much.

Tuffy was my constant companion when I was very little. We went outside and played together, and I tried to get him to come back when he would roam the neighborhood. I worried that one day he would never come back.

When we went on our long trips to the farm upstate, Tuffy would come with us. He did not like the car at all. He cried and whined the whole time. Sometimes he would howl. It must have bothered his ears, because Gran and Grandpa took him to the vet one day, and he had an operation on his ears. I burst out crying when I saw them taking Tuffy out to the van, he was unconscious, and Grandpa and another man were carrying poor Tuffy upside down, by the feet, out to the van. Poor Tuffy's tongue was hanging out, and a little blood and yellow stuff was draining from his ears. I vowed to nurse him back to health. It took Tuffy a long time to wake up. I wondered what had been wrong with his ears, but Gran said she didn't know.

One day at the big blue house in Staten Island, Tuffy was lying on the dining room floor, and I noticed two black lumps near his back end. I asked Gran what that was and she yelled at me to mind my own business. I did not know what had made her so angry, so I did not ask again. When she went into the kitchen, I went up to Tuffy and touched the black lumps to see what they felt like. Gran saw me, and came flying at me from the kitchen, spanking me soundly. It was just another one of her usual unexplained rages, where I never saw it coming, and never knew why she had gotten so angry. She never explained why I got hit, and never told me what those black lumps were. I never tried to touch them again, but I did feel a sense of detached shame that I had touched them to begin with. Gran had called me "piggish" as she was hitting me, said I was disgusting and had a filthy mind. So I figured it was one of those same instances where I must have just been born bad, as she said over and over, and would do bad things without even knowing it.

Tuffy hadn't seemed to mind. He never even woke up. I wondered if it were just "dog poop". That maybe It was stuck there, amongst his fur, near his back end. I didn't always see these black lumps, Tuffy was very fluffy, so maybe when he went to the bathroom, it would become stuck in his fur. I decided that was why Gran got so angry with me, and said I was piggish. She did make me wash my hands after she was finished spanking my bare bottom. I figured that must be it. I warned my brothers against ever touching Tuffy there, telling him that it was dirty and telling them what had happened to me. They listened, wide eyed, and we all speculated as to what it could possibly be, hanging from the dog's hind quarters.

We unanimously decided it was dog poop. Dog poop that would stay forever, and Gran never helped the dog rid himself of it because then she might get dirty and feel piggish.

One day, Maureen and I wanted to play "house" under the dining room table, our very favorite place. There was a tablecloth on the table, so we couldn't see the floor. We had our Barbie dolls all ready, and she had her beloved Barbie clothing case. Maureen had a Malibu Barbie, and I had a Malibu Francie. I was a bit jealous of Maureen's doll because hers had beautiful clothes, and mine was smaller and wouldn't fit into the same clothes. The year was 1974, and I was 8.

Well, we decided to play with our dolls, and I pulled up the tablecloth to go under the table. Tuffy was sleeping under there, and he looked up, startled. I made a face at him, due to the fact that he was taking our spot that we wanted, and unexpectedly Tuffy LUNGED at me, teeth bared, and bit me on my left thigh. I was so shocked and scared, I did not know what to do. I heard Maureen screaming for Gran, and yelling that Tuffy had bitten me. I started crying, my leg hurt so badly, but my feelings were hurt more than anything. I could not believe my beloved dog would do such a thing. My only friend.

Next thing I knew, Gran had put me on a chair in the kitchen. She and Brigid (or Kathleen, I'm not sure which sister it was) were discussing the cut and what to do. It was a very deep cut, and was bleeding. They were being very quiet, trying not to let me hear. Gran had this horrible stuff we called "red spray". It burned like fire when it was sprayed into a cut. Gran had it, and a band aid on the table. I started crying again at the thought of the red spray, and Tuffy came slinking into the kitchen to see me. He looked sorrowfully up at me, and gingerly placed his head on my lap, which started a fresh flood of hiccupy tears from me. I loved that dog so much and it seemed to me that Tuffy felt very badly for what he had done. I forgave him instantly, even though Gran yelled at him to get away from me. I had extremely mixed feelings about this. Gran never stuck up for me, yet she was yelling at my beloved dog in my defense. I chose to keep my mouth shut, but I did reach out carefully and petted Tuffy's head. Gran then said something about possibly pouring the red spray into the cut. Brigid (or Kathleen) said doubtfully, "In the cut, Mom???" I was terrified. I knew it would burn and hurt worse than it did already. Gran did not seem to know what to do about it. It was a pretty deep cut. I still have the scar from it today.

It took me a long time to stop crying and calm down, and when grandpa came home from work that night, I started crying again, when he asked me about it. He then asked what I had done to Tuffy to make him bite me. I told him I did not do anything to him, that I pulled the tablecloth up, and made a mad face because he was in Maureen's and my favorite play spot. Grandpa gently told me that under the dining room table was Tuffy's favorite spot to sleep, and if he wasn't there then it was ok to play there, but if he was there, then we needed to leave him alone. I tried to assure Grandpa that I hadn't bothered Tuffy, but he nor Gran believed me. They said I HAD to have done something to make him bite me. I decided that Tuffy did not like mad faces, and tried to keep a pleasant face on around him from then on.

Side note::

Obviously those black lumps were the dog's testicles. Back as a small kid though, I did not know about such things, so when I noticed them on Tuffy, and touched them, I had no understanding as to why Gran reacted the way she did.

Also, I saw it as a punishment that Gran prevented Tuffy from sleeping with me. In reality, and in hindsight, I realize she was probably afraid that he would hurt me if I inadvertently kicked him during the night. Perhaps they had heard Tuffy growling at me while I slept, and that is why they were already in the room when he finally snapped at me. At that time, we were still their foster children, and they would have been liable for any grievous injuries to us. If it would have only been EXPLAINED though, I perhaps would not have grown up so resentful of Gran and her methods.