The Proof

Still playing with the old slides. Here is the proof that I've never known life without a little dog in my lap.

Sissy was the first of the great dogs in my life. Half chihuahua and half toy manchester. She was a gift from my Grandmother Wilcoxen. She had first obtained a black full chihuahua that she named Sissy. Before she was able to give her to me, she realized that Sissy the first had the snappish chihuahua temperament that would not mix well with a child and decided to keep her for herself. Sissy the first ultimately became known as Black Sissy and my little dog as White Sissy. Both were in my life for several years. Black Sissy was loyal to a fault to my grandmother, but she never did warm up to me. White Sissy, on the other hand, was the perfect child's companion.

White Sissy was a terrific watch dog. She was with the family through the San Gabriel and Oak Hill years and even lived a year or two in Smiley. She had one peculiar trait. She was always vigilant in alerting the family to any stranger, except if that stranger were a Baptist preacher. How she knew the difference we never knew. But all Baptist preachers were welcomed to the house without fanfare.

One day an insurance salesman came to call and Sissy failed to sound the alert. After he and Mother had visited, she commented that he was the first stranger to gain entrance without argument from Sissy and she only did that for Baptist preachers. The man gave an odd look and confessed that he had formerly been a Baptist preacher.

My fondest memory of Sissy was playing in the church yard in Oak Hill. She would run huge circles around me, running so fast she was a white blur. Every so often, she would dip in close to me, just close enough for my fingers to graze her fur, and off she ran again.

I guess Sissy is the reason I never feel complete without a little dog in my life.

LSW