Blossom Valley Kennel: Parson Russell Terriers, Russell Terriers, Labradors

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My Story

I was born in Paducah, Kentucky on April 16, 1947, but my parents and I lived in a small town of about 2,000 people called Benton, Kentucky, which is approximately 28 miles from Paducah. My first memory of having a dog is a Pointer that my Dad used for his hunting. After that, he bought weimaraners and black Labrador Retrievers. In the summer of 1955, when I was 8 years old, we had two litters of pups – Labs and Weimies. I loved puppies and remember the joy of having three black lab pups to play with that summer: Lady, Tramp, and Jock. I don’t remember playing with other children -- I only remember my Labs and wandering around the country-side exploring the world. Kids could do that in Benton. Benton was so safe that we did not lock our doors at night and, in the summer when it was really hot and humid, we left the doors open with just the screen doors for protection. The only policeman that I remember seeing in Benton was called "Chewing Gum Charlie."

On Christmas eve 1955, however, my world changed forever. The snow was falling, my cousins Nat and Cherye were visiting, and suddenly we heard a knock at the door. A man asked my dad if he knew anyone who had a black Lab puppy dog -- he had just hit one in the road next to our house. Tragically, it was my Tramp! He was always escaping from the barn where he and the other dogs slept. Cherye and I started crying hysterically. My dad took Tramp to the basement, where he laid on a blanket on the floor. He stayed there a few days not getting better, so eventually my dad told me that he was going to take Tramp to the vet to make him better. I trusted my dad to make him better for me. I kept waiting for Tramp to come home -- he never did. Finally a couple of weeks later, my parents were sitting in their chairs in front of the fireplace, reading the newspaper and listening to music on the radio. I asked my dad, "When is Tramp coming home?" My dad looked at my mom and she looked at him -- and a quiet hush fell over the room. My dad looked at me and said, "We thought you would forget, so we decided not to tell you that Tramp died." I was devastated. I felt a lump in my stomach that I had never felt before. I felt my face flush -- my eyes filled with tears -- and I began to loose control. I felt so betrayed. I wasn't sure if the tears were the result of Tramp having died or of having my parents think that I would forget about him so quickly!

I went to my bedroom, climbed into bed and began to wail in agony -- wondering what had become of my beloved Tramp. My Pepaw had recently died and they told me he went to heaven, so I cried to my Dad, "Is Tramp in heaven with Pepaw?" He curtly responded, "No, honey, dogs don't go to heaven. Heaven is only for people, and dogs are not people. They are just animals so when they die, they are just dead and gone." I was shocked. I felt betrayed. I wailed more deeply. I was so miserable to think that my little Tramp -- who I loved so much -- was lying somewhere decomposing into nothingness -- because God wouldn't let dogs go to heaven. That was when I decided that I did not like my Dad or his religion. I knew Tramp had to be in heaven if one existed. I could never trust my Dad again for taking Tramp and not making him better and for not telling me that he died. This was the beginning of 1956 -- my life was soon to get worse.

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