A tribute of sorts, I guess.
So that I never forget what Patches was like, not ever.
Patches was born the December before my little brother was born. He would have been thirteen this December. He was bought as a present for my older sister. He would have been a registered Australian shepherd, but his father was too young to breed, or something like that. For those who might be confused, his name was Patches. I added the "boy" to the end of his name as an endearment, as I'm wont to do. I call our remaining dog Kaiser-boy, though his name is Kaiser.
A lot of the people who saw him called him a demon-dog or something to the effect because of his eyes. They were a shade of blue so light they were almost white. People were either scared by Patches' eyes, or wanted to buy him because of them. I had quite a bit of fun with that.
Patches was so funny, because early on we discovered that howling (on my part) or saying "Sing!" in a really high-pitched voice (on everyone else's part) would make Patches howl. We would spend hours outside making that dog howl, then Mama told us that it hurt his ears. I found out later that she said that just to make us quit.
He wouldn't fetch or roll over, but I did teach Patches to sit on command. I always said sit, then raised my hand quickly. I think toward the end he recognized the visual over the verbal. He was going deaf by then. Mind you, his hips were starting to bother him, so I really didn't make him sit all that much. I can't think of once that I made him sit in the last few months, actually.
Patches was an absolute fraidy-cat when it came to storms. If one was on its way, that dog made sure he was inside. He would wait by the door and the second any of us went in or out he'd zip past. He was almost impossible to stop or catch, and you would have to haul him out the door by his legs even if you did catch him. I would just tell him to go to his bathroom (there's a small bathroom toward the back of the house that Mama said to put him in during storms, and it became known as his bathroom), and he would make a beeline for it. Anything to be out of the elements.
He was a grumpy old man of a dog. He hated puppies (gave Kaze a nice hole in the forehead once), and girl dogs. I don't think he was gay, I think he just didn't like girl dogs. And puppies. Cats could chase him. He never even bothered to chase Mitzi. When he was younger he'd chase Stripes, until he got the cat backed into a corner. Then Stripes would give him what-for.
He was greedy, too. It drove me nuts. If we set out four bowls of dog food on the back porch, Patches would run from one to the other to make sure none of the other dogs got any. That meant I would have to spread the food all around the house, back and front. Even then Patches might spend more time running back and forth than actually eating. I'd have to actually bully him away from the food to make sure the other dogs got some.
When we got Hiei and I got conscripted into feeding her, I'd let the dogs lick out the formula she left in her bowl. There would always be a tiny bit left that she couldn't reach, and I would let Patches lick it out if he was around. Sometimes I'd set the bowl on the ground and go inside. When I came out later, the bowl would be spotless, and Patches would always have a bit of white on his nose.
I'll add more memories as they come to me, but for now I think I'll just go....
Rest in peace, Patches-boy.
