Dog People

The Family Dog : Celebrating Our Favorite Relative
by Linda Sunshine, Mary Tiegreen

Even before my own family had a dog, I was a Dog Person. In the cool north woods of Michigan, where we spent our summers, dogs were always around and, as an only child, these dogs were my companions and my cousins. Together we ran in the forest and dog-paddled in the lake, shared ice-cream cones outside the general store, and sat together in the dark by the glowing campfire. On clear, cool summer nights we would sit at the end of the dock under the bright dome of twinkling stars and wait for the northern lights. Dogs are good at this since they don't mind the cold and they respect the perfect silence required for contemplating the universe. There we'd sit, just the two of us, cuddled up for warmth, the silence broken on occasion by the splash of a fish jumping for mayflies down the shore.

Over the years, I've walked with many dogs down the silent, solitary path beside the lake in search of a deeper connection to my life. While Shadow, our little black cocker spaniel, was fearless, Katie, our bearded collie mix, was timid and never strayed far from my side. Luger, my uncle's dachshund, was relentless in his quest for animals, large and small. With his nose in the air, he'd waddle down the trail covered in a carpet of brown pine needles, short legs scramb- ling over the thick roots of the tall white pine. Then, suddenly, he'd catch a scent and break for the woods, disappearing beneath the ground cover of ferns. Much later, we'd find him in a standoff with a chattering squirrel high up in a tree.

Susan's dog, Sherlock, a German shepherd-golden retriever mix, was bold and strong and would run ahead, tail held high like a flag, a brave scout leading the way. The most magnificent of them all was Daisy, our golden retriever, who loved to bound through the tall ferns and leap over fallen logs with incredible strength and beauty. She seemed to run for the sheer joy of running, and there was something perfect in that moment when she was free and full of life. Being there with her gave me a feeling of transcendence and grace.

The Dog People in my family prefer the company of most dogs to that of most humans. With dogs we experience an innocent and deep connection that one can rarely find with another human. Dogs seem to see into our souls and offer us kindness, devotion, and complete acceptance. We talk to them and sing to them and take them on rides in the car because we know they like the car. We carry their pictures in our wallets and select our clothing and furniture based on the color of their fur.

We Dog People love our dogs and cherish their lives in photographs and stories. Every dog may have a tale, but a dog needs a person to pass it down and keep the memory alive. Every one of our family dogs had a story. These well-worn legends outlived each dog and were told over and over until they were perfectly polished and smooth as a bone.

Long after Old Fritzie was gone, for example, my family told stories about how this bulldog chased the old Model A Ford all the way from town and swam across the lake to get to the camp before the family arrived.

Fritzie had originally belonged to my mother's cousins who lived down the street but apparently preferred my grandmother's cooking and decided to move into her household. For several weeks, cousin Francis would come over and bring Fritzie back home, but he'd made up his bulldog mind. They could take him home but he'd always return in time for Grandmother's supper. Finally, he won and settled into life with his chosen family. No one wanted to argue with Old Fritzie.

Then there was the story of Pete, a dog from my grandmother Nelson's farm. I always imagined Pete to be a dog who resembled Old Yeller. As my grandmother used to tell it, she was just a young girl when her father lent Pete to a man who needed a dog for hunting. The man returned without poor Pete, explaining he had lost the dog somewhere in the faraway woods. (As a child I always hated this part of the story.)

One month later-"almost to the day," my grandmother would say in a you' re-not-going-to-believe-this voice, as if I'd never heard the story before-poor old Pete came hobbling into the yard, thin and bedraggled. He'd found his way back to his family through fifty miles of forest and farmland. "And I'll tell you one thing," my grandmother would always say, "if I'd had a tail I woulda' wagged it!"

Our family told stories about Maya and Pesa, who could pull a sled across the frozen Minnesota lake, and Perry, who would toss her kibble in the air and dance around be- fore she would eat it. They talked about Schmidtty's terrifying encounter with a porcupine, and Daisy, who learned how to close the back door in exchange for a cookie. And, of course, there was Scoop, who ate three socks and a T-shirt in one sitting.

My uncle Bob, a dedicated Dog Person if ever there was one, always shared his life with at least one, if not three, dachshunds. Like most Dog People, he had, over the years, received numerous dachshund gifts, including glass figurines, sectional nut dishes, T-shirts, calendars, coffee mugs, refrigerator magnets, welcome mats, music boxes, collectible china plates, and a shish kebab set. And like most Dog People, he bored the pants off anyone willing to listen to endless stories of his dogs' superior intelligence, their singing talents (with a demonstration), and their skill at catching small pieces of sausages in midair.

I am grateful for every moment I've had with dogs-walking in the woods or fighting for space in the bed, playing hide-and-seek, sitting together under the stars. These moments have been special gifts of love, humor, and true devotion.

A wise Dog Person once described a perfect world as one in which "every dog would have a home, and every home would have a dog." This book celebrates that special world and the people who share it with their best friends and devoted companions.

Excerpted from The Family Dog by Linda Sunshine & Mary Tiegreen Copyright © 2003 by Linda Sunshine and Mary Tiegreen. Excerpted by permission of Clarkson Potter, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

About the Author

Linda Sunshine, a former editorial director at Stewart, Tabori & Chang, is the author of more than fifty books, including many film novelizations. Most recently, she has worked on The Family Dinner, The Family Dog, and All Things Oz, which was published by Clarkson Potter in 2003, and two books about the making of Cold Mountain and Van Helsing. She lives in Los Angeles and New York.

Designer and writer Mary Tiegreen has been exploring the art of books and book making for most of her life. She has had the opportunity to learn about diverse areas of interest, including the history of Hollywood (MGM: When the Lion Roared), cooking and magic (The Secrets of Pistoulet), fashion (A Passion for Shoes), sex (TarotSutra), and golf (Let the Big Dog Eat). Women of Discovery is her first foray into the world of exploration. She lives in the Hudson Valley with her husband, Hubert, and big dog, Daisy.