Visits to the Grandparents

Ruby age 15 in 1939 carrying guitar on Pine Street“Minnie and Charlie’s daughter must be visiting.  I saw that strange girl of hers, and the dog’s gone.”  Now, over forty years later, that’s what I imagine people on Pine Street said when I went with my parents to my grandparents’ house.

As soon as I’d said hello to grandma and grandpa, I’d be out the door and heading down toward the woods at the end of the street.  Along the way, from three doors past their house, I’d start collecting dogs. I didn’t steal them or let them out of fenced yards.  No one had fenced yards then and dogs just laid around their front steps or in the yard.  If they saw me, they’d come out to the sidewalk and come along with me.  If I didn’t see one where I knew it lived, I might call “here doggiedoggie” or call its name if I knew it.

On a good day, I’d have seven or eight dogs with me by the time I reached the end of the two block street.  At the end was a ravine, wooded with a trail going through it to the railroad tracks and also running parallel to the tracks along the creek.  The dogs and I would walk through the woods on the creek path, staying away from the tracks and never going further than a couple blocks either direction from Pine Street.  I don’t remember what we did for the hours we spent there.  I threw sticks for them maybe.  Then, when it was almost grandparents Charles and Minnie Burwell 1962dark, we’d walk back up Pine Street or sometimes Pearl Street and the dogs would all go back to their respective homes.  I’d get back to Grandma’s by myself just in time for supper.  If we were staying overnight, next day I’d be back down the street collecting the dogs and we’d do the same thing.  Before we left, I’d make a hurried trip down Pine Street to collect the dogs for a quick goodbye to them all on the street.  They seemed to know I was leaving and just went back to their doorsteps.

I think there were other kids sometimes along with us too, but I can’t remember any of them clearly.  I knew some of the dogs by name, Bingo and Rex and Lady, so I must have talked to some kids to know that.  I don’t think I would have talked to any adults and I don’t recall any adults asking why I was taking their dog.

I remember the dogs.  A beautiful collie that lived in a two-storey frame house on the corner of the lane that ran between Pine and Pearl.  A bulldog, some little shaggy haired mutts, a couple big Shepherd crosses.  They all got along, there was never a fight among them.  None of them ever ran off from our pack.  They never chased cats sitting hunched up or standing backs arched in driveways further down the road.  They never came back to my grandparents’ house with me, and they never came on their own to visit me there.  I don’t know if, when I wasn’t there, they rounded themselves up and went for walks in the ravine.  I don’t think I wondered about that at the time; all I knew is that they were there for me when I came to visit.

I loved going to my grandparents’.  I liked seeing them, I liked being in their house, looking in cupboards at treasures I’d seen before and finding new ones.  But I especially loved my time with the dogs.  Now, when I go back and drive past my grandparents’ house, I want to park the car and walk down the street looking for dogs to go walking with.  grandparents' house on Pine Street TillsonburgThe houses on Pine Street look pretty unchanged from the 1960s.  But the woods aren’t there anymore.  The ravine is there, but the creek is gone.  It’s been diverted, I guess, and the bed paved over.  A new subdivision is on the other side, in what used to be the woods between the creek and the railroad tracks.  Even if I found dogs sitting on doorsteps or laying in the yard, there’d be nowhere woodsy to walk with them.  So I stop in front of the house on the lane.  It’s still got pale yellow siding with the same windows and front cement step.  I say “hello Lassie” to the dog I see in my mind.  Then I drive a few streets east, turn left and stop at the recreation field.  There’s a ball diamond there and a soccer field.  At the back of it, there’s woods with a trail going through to the railroad tracks.  I get my dog out of the car and we walk through the woods.

I didn’t know at the time, when I was eight or ten, that this would be a constant in my life:  walking with dogs and remembering dogs.  Like the kids that were part of my visits to Pine Street, many people have been in my life over the years but it’s the dogs that stand out most vividly.

Originally posted in Stories on my St. Thomas Dog Blog on July 4, 2010. The photographs of my mother, grandparents and their house are from my mother’s photo albums. 

 

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