Grandma's ole dog KING

AZ Jim

AZ Jim

R.I.P. With Us In Spirit Only
Location
SURPRISE, ARIZONA
My Grandmother, mom's mom, had a dog named King. Grandma lived in a growing part of Los Angeles in 1940 when this occurred. She lived where there was building going on all around her little house. Now, this was a time when people had their dogs but didn't need or want to chain them up or fence them in so they were allowed to just run free around the yard.

Grandma began having to pick up torn paper bags and wax paper debris around the yard almost every day. At the same time she noticed that King was not eating like he usually did.

One day Grandma looked out in the yard and there was King eating from a paper bag and two men were petting and talking to him. She stepped out and learned that the men were from a large construction site about two blocks away and that the men had noticed almost every day one lunch was missing when it was time to eat it.


They caught King in the act of stealing a lunch and had begun bringing a bag for King and leaving it where he could "steal" it. After they did this a few days, one day they decided to follow him when he gently picked up his bag and wandered off. They had trailed him to his home and that was when Grandma spotted them in her yard.

Grandma began telling the men she was sorry and would keep King home so he wouldn't steal from them. They asked that she not do that as it had become a fun event on the job to wait and watch as old King entered the site and "stole" his lunch bag then wandered off. They went on to say they were just curious as to where he took his lunch to eat it so they had trailed him home.

Till the day Grandma died she would tell that story....
 

I adore that story what a character he must have been .....our Dog while I was growing up was a German Shepherd also called.. ...*King* :D but he only stole our food no-one elses to my knowledge..
 
That old lady was so dear to me. We would sit before her fireplace and she would share stories of her Mom and Dad and her youth in Oklahoma. Grandma was half Cherokee and had a very hard life as a kid. Now everyone is Cherokee but when she was young it was tough on them. She was a delight.
 
I love that story Jim and I love elderly people who will talk for hours on end about their pasts. My husband's grandma was part Cherokee. He left Okla in 1949 or 50 when he was a tiny little guy. His granny told him she would save his favorite jelly glass for him. When his family went back when he was 16, she brought his glass out and gave it to him. :)

 
linda said:
i love that story jim and i love elderly people who will talk for hours on end about their pasts. My husband's grandma was part cherokee. He left okla in 1949 or 50 when he was a tiny little guy. His granny told him she would save his favorite jelly glass for him. When his family went back when he was 16, she brought his glass out and gave it to him. :)

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linda, thats so cute about the jelly glass!
 
Nice story. Dogs can be very entertaining even when up to no good. My dog is truly my best friend. Unreal the people I have met because of him(walking in the neighborhood). So many people want to pet him or comment on him because he is friendly and good looking. ;)
 
Bullie76 said:
Nice story. Dogs can be very entertaining even when up to no good. My dog is truly my best friend. Unreal the people I have met because of him(walking in the neighborhood). So many people want to pet him or comment on him because he is friendly and good looking. ;)
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That's so true Bullie you're never short of conversation with strangers when you're out walking with a dog by your side..
 
Anybody remember Jimmy Stewart and Johnny Carson crying on the Tonight Show when talking about Stewart's dog?
 
A dog, named Beau.
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[h=1]Jimmy Stewart Reads A Dog Named Beau | Poem That Made Johnny Carson Cry[/h]sonnyradio.com/jimmy-stewart-johnny-carson-dog-named-beau.html



sonny-radio-jimmy-stewart-beau.jpg


Jimmy Stewart and his dog named Beau

A Dog Named Beau Poem by Jimmy Stewart

He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house--
I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I'd give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.

And before very long
He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.

And there were nights when I'd feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us, And I'd pat his head.

And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.

And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.

~ Jimmy Stewart
 
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