My Best Girl, Rosie

I love blogging about my older sister. She is still so true to who she has always been. When I mentioned to her that I had blogged about us Charging our mother before I could even tell her that I had said she still denied coming up with the scheme...she denied coming up with the scheme. She makes me laugh.

After my parents divorced (I was 4 when they seperated) it was mostly my sister, brother and I together. They looked after and out for me and we were loyal to each other.

Soon after we were situated in an old family house with our mother, our neighbors dog had puppies. We three children found any and every excuse to visit the neighbors back porch where the puppies were housed. Some how or another my sister talked our mother into letting us get puppy.

My mother was not a dog person. She liked cats quite well because they kept themselves clean and could be litter box trained. But dogs? She had a strong dislike for them and their doggy smell. For my mother to agree to a puppy was huge.

Rosie, as our puppy was was named was originally supposed to be my sisters dog. My sister however quickly lost interest in the dog. The task of feeding the dog became my chore and I have to say, I loved her and I liked taking care of her. Rosie was a Sheltie mix of some sort. She looked just like a collie, only with short legs. She provided me with lots of entertainment. She was a sweet dog with a good, playful nature.

I have to say that she endured a lot to keep me happy. As a child I would get one idea and from there it would rabbit trail several different directions. Once I had the bright idea to climb a tree with Rosie. I could see us sitting together in the top of a tree we climbed a lot as children. I couldn't climb the tree and hold Rosie at the same time so I devised a plan to hoist her up into the tree.

Going into the house I secured my brothers school belt and a piece of clothes line rope. I cinched buckled the belt around Rosie's waist and tied the rope onto the buckle. Tossing the rope over the lowest limb, I tested the strength of the rope a few times by hoisting Rosie up and down. I feel the need to insert here that a cat would have NEVER been so patient with me as Rosie was.

After hoisting her up and down for awhile, I remembered my original plan to climb the tree with her. Up I went and managed to get Rosie up to the top with me. Rosie was not as happy about being way up there as I was. I hollered to some of the neighbor children and felt pretty big sitting up in the tree with my dog.

After a while sitting there got old and Rosie could not get comfortable. It was when I started to try to get down that I realized it was going to be a chore getting Rosie and I both down safely. I stayed awhile longer. I hollered several times for my mom and she came out of the house looking up to find me in the tree. With the dog.

I think I was one of those children that leavetheir parent(s) wondering how they end up in such spots. My mother said my name in an exasperated tone a lot when I was a child. I think she couldn't figure out my thought processes. We were in the same boat as I couldn't either.

The look on her face as she took in the scene of me in the tree with the dog said it all. Whose kid was I anyway? I always seemed to be in a scrap...yet it didn't seem like a scrap to me. It seem perfectly logical to want to sit up in the tree with my dog. My poor mother...after two normal children she got me. :)

Mother hollered a few times, to no avail, for my brother and sister. She ended up climbing up the tree. I managed to hand Rosie down to her. I then climbed down below her and she handed Rosie back to me. We tag teamed this way until Mother reached the ground and I handed Rosie down for the last time.

Once on the ground, Rosie was instantly herself again and licked my hands and face. My mother on the other hand, in no uncertain terms let me know that I was NOT to climb the tree with the dog again and I was to leave my brother school belt alone.