Curly Sue

Curly Sue

Suzanne Marsh

We were on our way to dinner when my husband accidentally hit a small brown and white dog. We tried to find the owner, to no avail. The next day we took the dead dog to the SPCA. While we were there I went to look at the dogs that were available, there was Curly, in cage by herself, she looked so forlorn. She was a small black and white puppy with a curly tail, hence the name Curly. The cardio doctor told me to walk as much as possible; since my heart attack. The two other dogs we had at home were large, so I convinced Earl that if we got this small dog I would take her for walks.

Curly, was great at swiping my slippers; I never knew where I would find them. Several times, I found them in the foyer, I took them off in our bedroom. The older she got the more inventive she became. My slippers disappeared for two days until I stumbled upon them under the couch. Curly had a penchant for bones, she would wait until the other dogs were done, then she became a bone thief. We should have called her “the bone collector”. She would line up her bones in a row in the middle of the living room, that was not a terrible thing. Although more than once I have slid on a bone in the middle of the floor.

Curly, wanted to play but Rosie and Lucky were getting older, so Curly created her own amusements. She apparently was bored while the other two dogs slept. Rosie and Lucky always had the run of the house; they never did anything destructive. Curly, began with paper, she would shred it while we were gone. Paper, is easily cleaned up, however she began to chew up other things in the house.

It was a beautiful sunny day when we came home from church. Rosie and Lucky greeted us at the door but no Curly. We opened the front door further, I was not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry at that moment. I am an avid reader, apparently Curly thought she was too. Books were strewn all over the hall and into the living room. That was bad enough, then I noticed a book that I really enjoyed: “Finding Yamamoto”. The book is based on “Operation Revenge”. I think Curly must have gotten revenge from being left home with the other two dogs. She tore out several pages and I think digested a picture of Yamamoto. That was the last straw, if she was going to chew, then she would have to be crated. She destroyed the book, I grabbed the book, soggy pages and all, put it away up on a shelf, hoping she would not be able to reach it again.

One Sunday we came home from church to find several CD’s strewn around the house. We picked the CD’s up, returned them to the racks they were on. My husband and I talked about getting a crate, at least she could not get into any trouble while we were out. Famous last words, we went and bought a crate. Curly, liked to go in the crate she just did not want to stay in it.

Curly had no intention of going into her crate, a friend of our daughter’s was getting married. My daughter was singing at her friends wedding. I was all dressed, Curly was under the bed. I had a large problem: how was I going to get her out from under the bed and make the wedding on time. This was no easy feat, not by any stretch of the imagination. I laid down on the floor, I could see Curly I just couldn’t reach her. This was not boding well when my daughter called: “Mom, where are you?” I quickly explained that Curly was under the bed, she would not come out. My husband was driving truck so I asked a girl friend if she would go with me. She rang the door bell and when I did not answer, she came in to find me half under the bed, in my good clothes. She did not know if I passed out or just why I was on the floor. “What are you doing? We are running late already!” I was not going to leave Curly out, not after the fiasco with “Finding Yamamoto”. I rolled out from half way under the bed as I replied: “I am not leaving until I get Curly in her crate. I guess we will be late unless you help me. Help me, were the operative words, as I scrambled back under the bed. The closer I got to Curly the further back she went. This was not working so I had my friend go on one side of the bed, I crawled further under the bed. Curly made a brake for it and I grabbed her. I put her in her crate. We both ran to the car, jumped in and sped toward the wedding. We got lost trying to find the home where the wedding was taking place. We found it as the first chords were struck.

Curly, still does not like to go into the crate. She hates thunder storms, here in Texas they are frequent during the spring. She hides under the bed or in back of the couch. She is a wonderful dog, at times she reminds of a granny with glasses sitting on the end of her nose. Curly, has a long nose. She loves grocery bags, and will root through them.

Curly has come a long way in the eight years she has lived with us. She has gone from a mischievous puppy to an adult dog. She has a collection of bones under the piano. She hides toys in her bed so the other three can’t play with them. She still loves to ride in the car, her head out the window. However, nothing will ever top the day she pulled apart “Finding Yamamoto”. I couldn’t even get angry with her, she has such soulful brown eyes.