Razor

 

Legend has it that my first word was “Blue”. No we aren’t talking about the color, but rather the dog.  The family dog when I was little was named Blue, and when I was a baby we also got Ringo.  But Ringo wasn’t quite as tolerant of a toddler as Blue.  So you see, my animal loving started pretty early.  I was thinking about all the dogs in my life for the last 45 years, and there have been quite a few.  So I decided to narrow it down to my favorite, and I couldn’t.  While I loved Dudley, and all my dogs, I have decided that my two favorites would have to have been Ringo and Razor. Oh heck, maybe I can’t even narrow it down to just those two.

But, I decided that today’s flashback would be about Razor.  That amazing shelter dog that was an amazing find.

 

I don’t even remember why I decided I needed a dog again, I was in college working at Mervyn’s and for some reason ended up at the Humane Shelter.  There he was sitting back in the corner, not barking, and looking very afraid.  He was pretty big, but my main concern was how well he got along with little kids.  So the next day I remember taking a couple of nieces in to see how he reacted to them, he was so excited. So papers were filed and while I was finishing to fill them out, they brought him out to the lobby, he promptly stretched up on his back paws, put the front ones on the counter and made sure I was dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s. He barely fit in my little Izuzu and sat in between the bucket seats all the way home, occasionally reaching over and giving me a huge lick up the side of my face. Once home, we never looked back, he was truly home.

Razor didn’t chase or kill anything that I remember, and I had a ton of outside cats running around.  He adored all the kids, would chase balls, and especially liked a particular squeaker type of ball that he would walk all around the yard squeaking…at any time of the day or night.  He knew when the motor home came out that we were heading someplace and would get all mopey and attempt to climb in.  Sometimes if we were just going up on the mountain, he got to come along.  The only time Razor acted aggressively was once when Mr. Bradbury came to talk to my dad, I was home alone, he mistakenly took a step toward me with his finger pointed at me…big mistake.  Fortunately I happened to be close to Razors collar and pulled him back.

Another point in Razor’s favor was that I had an old boyfriend that seemed to hang around the ranch long after we had broken up.  He hung out with my cousin Steve.  Anyway, he had a yappy dingo that would bait Razor from the back of the pickup everytime they went up the street.  One day Razor had had it, it came up as the truck was going up the street, reached in and snagged that stupid dog, pulled him on the pavement and beat the snot out of him. Mmwwwaahahhaha.

After Daddy died, Razor struggled with depression and passed away a few years later. An amazing dog that I can’t wait to see again.