I’m a dog person. Always have been. I love my dogs. When I was young we always had a dog. I most remember 2 dogs in our family, Mini Ha Ha- a mutt who had been purchased as a miniature manchester terrier (we called her Minnie) and Bonnie Lass, a collie. I don’t remember taking Bonnie to Michigan, perhaps we acquired her after the land had left the family. But Minnie was a family fixture for most of my childhood.
The dogs of summer would have been Minnie and my uncle Carl’s black lab Yenta. They both travelled to Michigan to Brookwood with our families and they became pals. In the morning we kids would set out for a walk and one or both of the pups might choose to walk with us a while. But invariably they left the road or trail and headed out into the woods on their own, often together.
It was useless to try to call them back. In allowing them free rein, we depended on the fact that our land was a large area and we could reasonably expect they would not be taken by other people. But of course they easily might have mixed it up with wildlife.
I also don’t remember either of them bringing home game such as squirrels or rabbits, which others have told me their dogs have done. Uncle Carl would sometimes take Yenta hunting with him but otherwise they seem to have left game alone.
When it was time for the dogs to come home, Dad would walk out to the car and honk the horn a few times. Sound carried well in the woods and within perhaps at the most twenty minutes they would both trot up to the house, ready for dinner, or to come in, or go for a ride, smiles on their earnest little faces and wags in their tails.
It is a lovely memory to see in my mind’s eye the two of them running side by side, limbs outstretched joyfully and ears flapping in the breeze as they too took advantage of the freedoms and joys of Broowood. I will always remember them as the dogs of summer.
Memories of Michigan 