Sunrise to Sunset

 

The flashes and bangs of the 4th of July had disappeared and thankfully, some of the heat of the past few days. I woke up on Sunday to a world filled with fog. I rapidly got dressed for church and left early, hoping to find some nice pictures. Unfortunately, the fog had mostly dissipated by the time I left home, but I did get to watch the sun as it rose over the Alleghany River.

    The rain of the previous night had dropped the overwhelming temperatures of the past few days into a bearable range. Ann Marie and I decided it was time to take a road trip. We were actually able to roll down the windows and enjoy the breeze on our arms. I am a big believer in “460” air-conditioning; rolling down 4 windows and going 60 MPH!

    We decided to do a couple Adventure Labs located around Apollo. Adventure Labs are much like Geocaches. You use your phone to direct you to various places and once there, answer a question to claim a find. It is like a virtual scavenger hunt. Some may be tough but most are really easy and like caching, they’re fun and take you to some interesting sites.

    We started out in Apollo, located in Armstrong County, sitting along the Kiskiminetas River. The first stop was at a log cabin built around 1816. Then we visited a local cemetery where we found a couple mausoleums.  Then we located a couple of the houses in the town, one that Nellie Bly’s family owned, the house she grew up in! Nellie Bly was a journalist in the late 1800’s. She became famous by traveling around the world in 72 days, following Jules Verne’s story Around the World in Eighty Days. She also wrote an exposé about sanitariums by getting committed to one. Not far from the town are the remains of the Biddle Iron Furnace, one of the first furnaces built in Western Pennsylvania. It was built in 1817. When the Pennsylvania Main Line Canal was built, the furnace used it haul iron to Pittsburgh.

    On our way to the next Adventure Lab, we stopped at Dolly’s Diner for lunch. We sat at the counter and watched the serving staff rushing around, dealing with the Sunday morning crowds. It was a good meal with good service and best of all, it was inside a restored, air-conditioned diner from the 1950’s!

    From Dolly’s we drove beside the river to Leechburg. This town was founded by David Leech who in 1827, came to build a lock and dam for the Pennsylvania Main Line Canal. We visited the “walking bridge” that crosses the river and a couple other sites to claim a few more finds.

    Enjoying the searches, we decided to visit Saltsburg next. Saltsburg is located in Indiana County, about a half hour away from Leechburg. The town got its name because of the abundance of salt in the area. Since this town was also along the Kiskiminetas River and along the route of the Pennsylvania Main Line Canal, it had a thriving boat building industry. The finds here were quickly located, taking us to a large grain mill built in 1912 and the route of the canal as it passed near town.

    The day was getting warmer; the “460” air conditioning was abandoned for actual AC. We drove through New Kensington and crossed the Alleghany River. In Springdale we stopped at Glen’s Custard where we treated ourselves to large milkshakes. While we were there, we met Rick Sebak, a popular Pittsburgh producer and documentarist, who had stopped by for the same reason as us. We BS’d for a few minutes before we left for home.

    Rain came and dropped the temperatures once again. Let me tell you, sitting beside an open window and listening to the rain falling through the trees is one of my favorite things!

    I wasn’t quite ready to hit the sack yet, so I grabbed the camera and went to search for the evening train as it came through Glenshaw. I caught it as it was passing behind the old Glenshaw Glass plant. 

    Walking back to the car, I was greeted to a beautiful display of sun rays coming through the clouds. The sun had given me a nice picture as it rose and here, it was giving me one as it set. It was another good day, from sunrise to sunset!

Fifty Years

 On the day our country celebrates its 250^th birthday, I will be celebrating another anniversary. It was on the 4^th of July, 1976 that I quit smoking. I figured that if I didn’t slip up and go back to this addiction, I’d always be able to remember the exact day I quit. The two hundredth birthday of our country, fifty years ago!

    I did do some planning. I smoked more than my usual amount of cigarettes on the days proceeding. I wanted my mouth to taste like shit! I smoked one butt after another, opening a new pack as soon as I emptied the last. Lighting a new cigarette off of the one I had just finished, my fingers smelled as bad as my mouth tasted.

    1976, beside the country celebrating its 200^th birthday, lots of things happened during the year. There was a Freedom train that stopped in Pittsburgh for a couple days. The average price of gas was around sixty cents a gallon. NASA landed Viking 1 on the planet Mars and it sent color pictures back to us earthlings. VHS tapes were introduced, changing how we watched TV. The first Rocky movie was released, Alex Haley’s book Roots spent 22 weeks in the number 1 spot on the New York Times Bestseller List and Stephen King was rapidly gaining popularity with two books under his belt. Cigarette prices were soaring up into the fifty cents a pack range. It was getting expensive to smoke in those days!

    Just a couple years out of high school, I was working in a small machine shop in the basement of a building in Blawnox. I was a whole two years into my full-time working life. I rode my motorcycle and enjoyed hiking and camping. In the evenings, I’d get together with my friends, and we’d listen to music, Pink Floyd, Zeppelin, Kansas, Frampton, Wings and The Eagles to name just a few. We would watch TV and BS, fueled on by herbal and alcoholic spirits. Those were the days! We all smoked. BUT, I can still remember the smell of the room the next day as I cleaned up. Emptying the butts into the trash and washing the ash trays could turn your stomach, but I dealt with it. It was all part of the habit!

    I have to say though, cigarette smoke can smell good, especially if it’s just a slight wisp, and an attractive woman is doing the smoking. A mixture of perfume and cigarette smoke can take you away to a different place. It can add a bit of mystery or intrigue to an evening. It brings to mind, Brigitte Bardot or Uma Thurman, Humphrey Bogart or Clint Eastwood. Smoking was cool, it made me feel cool! It also left a bad taste in my mouth.

    The time had come. I didn’t want that monkey on my back anymore. It was time to quit, while I still could. So, late in the night, as the clock neared midnight, on the 3rd of July 1976, I took my last drag on my last cigarette, crumpled the pack and started anew.

    Now this year, as the country celebrates its 250^th birthday, I will also be celebrating my 50^th year free of tobacco addiction. A half of a century, I’d never have guessed it back in 1976. I haven’t always made the best choices, but this was definitely one of my better!

The Author Within Us All

 

We all dream. Sadly, most of our dreams are forgotten. I, myself, love my dreams. They are one of the reasons I look forward to going to bed. I never know what I’ll dream or even if I’ll remember them, but I always anticipate them. I woke up this morning, in the middle of a dream and scribbled some notes that turned into this short essay.

    Why is it that we dream? There are many thoughts on this and don’t worry, I’m not going to try and explain them. There are plenty of studies that have been done and many books written about the subject. Dreams are not only what we experience at night and during naps, they are also things that we look forward to or goals we hope to achieve.

    Maybe our sleeping dreams are our brains trying to review the events in our day and life. I tend to think that our dreams are a way of entertaining us as we sleep. As I said before, I never know what I’m going to dream. I have tried to influence my dreams (without much luck) and I try my best to remember them. I write down my more memorable dreams.

    Thankfully, nightmares or bad dreams have only been a very small part of my dream life. I experienced some in my childhood but, they are now gone. I still have an occasional uncomfortable dream but never anything that terrorizes me.

    Memory always plays an important part of my dreams. Many of the places I go are places I’ve been to before, either in my life or in my dreams. The places I’ve visited in my waking life are never the same in my dreams, though I always KNOW where the place is. It just never looks the same, but there is no doubt to me, where it is! There are many places that I’ve visited only in my dreams and they always look the same. I’ve met many people from my past in my dreams, most still alive and many who have left this life. I always enjoy these visits! I also participate in many of the activities I used to enjoy. I find it exhilarating to run through the woods, leaping over rocks and logs, and not get tired! Riding my bike up hills without exerting myself, how could I not wake up feeling good after that?

    I love to read. When I do that, I take my imagination to a different place. I experience the world through the eyes of the author and see it through “the eyes” of my imagination. I see the picture they are describing. I think that my dreams are the stories my subconscious mind is writing for me. Perhaps our dreams are the authors inside of our minds, writing the adventures we live each night when we go to sleep!

    I can’t wait to see what I’ll “write” tonight!

It Is Getting Closer...

What is it exactly that gets us interested in trains? For many it is the circle of track running around under our Christmas trees. Or maybe it is from looking at our early picture books or the reciting of The Little Engine That Could, night after night before bedtime. Some of our interests stem from our parents or grandparents who lived through the years when trains seemed to be everywhere.

    I believe my own interests come from a combination of all of the above. Trains were a part of my family in more ways than one. My grandfather worked in the Pennsylvania Railroad roundhouse in Verona, PA. He later drove a streetcar on the rails through town. My father and my brother made an HO train layout of the Kiski Junction, a location across the river from Freeport. 

     My father had taken many pictures of trains during his lifetime. In 1924 he had the opportunity of riding in the cab of a steam engine, an event he documented in one of his albums. “Over sixty miles an hour!” Some of his pictures grace the walls of my library.

    I imagine that it was inevitable that I would become a rail-fan myself. Being a photographer, I fell right into the hole. There is an anticipation I feel while waiting for a train to come. The feeling rises as the engine comes into sight. The noise increases and the train seems to get faster as it nears. The loud blaring of the whistles sends a shiver through me. It is a rush I feel, one that continues to draw me back time and again. The "pictures" may only be an excuse to hang out at railroad crossings…

    The Union Pacific’s Big Boy, steam engine #4014 has been taking up a lot of space on the internet. Facebook’s algorithms put numerous postings on my pages daily. The train is in the second half of a cross-country trip. It has been to the West Coast and will soon be entering Pennsylvania. It is scheduled to be in Philadelphia for the 4^th of July, our country’s 250^th birthday. It will be returning to its home base later, going through Pittsburgh in the process. (July 11^th)

    This steam engine is a monster! Weighing over a million pounds, it is 133 feet long. It has 16 driving wheels and because of its length, the frame is articulated to allow it to round bends. It was built in the early 40’s, engineered to pull very heavy loads. The 4014 is one of 25 engines built by the American Locomotive Company. (ALCO) Only eight of these massive engines remain and only the 4014 is still in operation.

    The engine worked until 1961, twenty years and during this time it covered over one million miles before it was retired. It was eventually rebuilt, converted from coal to oil and then returned to the rails in 2019.

    Needless to say, there are many, many people looking forward to seeing this engine, myself included!

    While we wait for this monster engine to steam into Pittsburgh, I have been searching for a spot to photograph it. My rail-fan friend Frank and I have been scouting out various places, checking out the lines of sight, the ease of access and whether or not there are any nice background buildings or rail signals. (Having a nice background can make or break a picture!)

    We are looking for a spot where there will be a minimum of people. Spots where the train will be stopping or where it goes through towns and cities will probably be overrun with spectators. Granted, no matter where we see it, it will be worth it, BUT, we would like to get some good pictures at the same time!

    This coming Thursday, we will be going out again on another scouting trip. The weather forecasters are predicting a day of clouds with minimal chance of rain. Hey, we’ve been out in the rain before, a little rain never hurt anyone. Hopefully, rain on the 11^th will be non-existent.

    While I am waiting, I go out and take more pictures of trains, practice, practice, practice! I also search the maps, imagining how shots from along the lines might look. I find that as I sit and watch the TV or read my book while lying in bed, a portion of my brain is thinking about camera speeds, locations to visit, B&W or color, or both, what to bring along and a multitude of other things. I’m not complaining, it’s all part of the fun of being a rail-fan photographer!

Searching for Who Knows What

 

This morning my buddy Frank and I took a ride. As is always the case, we were armed with cameras and GPS’s. We had a rough idea of where we were headed, and our purpose was to find some interesting things to photograph. Nothing in particular, we'd know it when we saw it. Our destination was the Turtle Creek and Braddock area.

    The day was perfect for photography. The sky was a deep shade of blue dotted with puffy white clouds. The polarizers on our lens made the sky appear even darker.

    We did a cache in Wilmerding, (You know, “There are no Winky’s in Wilmerding!”) across the RR tracks from an old building that Frank used to work in, many, many years ago. We were right beside the tracks and sadly, saw no trains go by.

    Since we were in the area, we stopped to take a few pictures of the George Westinghouse Memorial Bridge. The conditions were perfect!

    Opened in 1932, it was then regarded as the longest concrete span bridge in the world. It is approximately 240 feet from the deck to the valley below. After we took some pictures from one side, and watched a train go by, we went to the opposite side to see what it looked like from there.

    While the shots from this side were nice, they didn’t compare to the view from the opposite side. While we were there, we watched a set of 4 Union RR MP15 locomotives pull a line of cars into the mill, crossing a long bridge. Next, we decided to see what the view was like from on top of the Westinghouse Bridge.

    To do this involved a bit of walking. Naturally, we couldn’t stop the car on the bridge, so we had to find a spot to park and then hoof it to the center. We strung our cameras around our necks and started walking. Ten or more minutes later we were nearing the center. The sun was hot overhead and cars and trucks were zipping past us just a few feet away. Thank heavens there was a sidewalk! The noise was loud to put it mildly, but it was definitely worth it once we got out in the middle of the span.

    Kennywood could be seen off to the left in the distance, its yellow roller coaster standing out against the green hillsides. The huge USS Plant grabs your attention in the center of the view. Turtle Creek was below, lined on either side by railroad tracks. A dam could be seen almost directly below us, with a flood gate hanging over the stream. The Norfolk and Southern RR tracks could be seen going under the Union RR Bridge and the Braddock Avenue Bridge, disappearing into the trees to the right. During the height of the steel boom this area was supposedly the most active railroad area in the county! 

    Back at the car, we headed into Braddock where we stopped numerous times to photograph old, abandoned buildings and Churches. One of the Churches no longer had a roof and the windows were all broken out. Sad how such a nicely built building, once weekly filled with people, now sits empty with only (?) pigeons living in it. We photographed a few houses that were surprisingly still standing, the end of their lifetimes rapidly approaching.

    We passed a train and hoping to catch it further down the line, pulled into a funeral home parking lot. We framed our shots and waited…and waited. After waiting 10-15 minutes we gave up and continued on to where we started our journey.

    Without a doubt, it was a great morning! Trains, caches and decrepit old buildings, what more could you ask for? And, so far no signs of ticks or poison ivy! What a great way to spend a sunny morning!

Time Passes so Quickly

 Looking at my calendar, I saw that the anniversary of my father’s death was rapidly approaching. I was surprised to see that tomorrow it will be 50 years ago that he left this planet. My dad, Roy Breidenbach was born 121 years ago in 1905. He passed away on May 20^th, 1976 at the age of 70.

    In some ways, this shocks me; I know it has been a long time, but a half of a century, it's hard to believe! I had just passed my 21^st birthday when he died. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to know him better.

    He inspired me in so many ways. In astronomy, I still have the telescope he gave me when I was in grade school. Literature, I have many of his books, including his cookbooks still on my shelves. His love of reading has been in my genes from before I knew how to read. For this I am forever thankful! He taught me about appreciating music, both good and bad. There is evidence of him all through my life. 

    I was looking for some pictures of him and quickly realized that he is rarely in any of the family pictures. It is because he is the one holding the camera. Through this, he has helped put faces to many of the relatives I never met. Photography, another gift he bestowed on me.

    He was a writer, penning many letters in the later years of his life, but then again, that is how things were done back in the seventies. Texting and social media were things only in science fiction novels. He was a collector and my attic still has boxes of things he didn’t want to toss. Broken watches, old pipes, knick-knacks and coins, they give example of the vast areas of his interests. Perhaps that is why I tend to do the same…I’ve learned through example. Maybe it is another type of genes he shared, those of a pack rat.

    He loved the outdoors. He was a landscaper and it seemed as if he knew everything about plants and trees. He knew their names, both in English and Latin. He knew how and when they would grow and knew what plants would look good with others. He transformed our yard into a year-long show of color. I remember him telling me that a weed was only a plant that was in the wrong place. Dandelions could look good if you wanted them there, in the same way, a rose could be a weed if planted in the wrong spot!

    He told me shortly before he died that he had been lucky enough to see men leave the surface of the earth in airplanes and was also able to see men go into space and land on the moon!

     Fifty years is a long time. I am now in my 7^th decade and thank heavens I can still remember him! I treasure the memories I have of him. There are so many times when I’ll see something and he will pop into my mind. He may have left the planet fifty years ago but in many ways, he is still here!

XXXXX           XXXXX              XXXXX

I wrote a short narrative about him 5 years ago, if you’d like to read it, here is a link.

Notes from a Reading Addict: Weeding with my Father

Pennsylvania Turnpike Sights

 On a recent trip, Ann Marie and I took a portion of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. We really aren’t big fans of driving on limited access highways, preferring the freedom of changing our routes on a whim. Granted the roads we take are a bit slower, but we tend to think that they are filled with more opportunities. Different sights to see, a wider variety of places to eat and a whole slew of things we’ve never seen before.

    Heading home we had driven as far as Harrisburg when we ran into a large traffic tie-up. We decided to take the turnpike. We hadn’t been on this section in years. It was a nice change of pace; we didn’t have to worry about slowing down when we came into towns and there were no traffic lights or traffic congestion that slowed us down.

    I enjoyed seeing the various sites I used to look forward to back when I used the turnpike more often. The farm with the “Drink Milk” sign, the water tank painted to look like a world globe. The variety of barns sitting off to the sides; some with Mail Pouch Tobacco signs, others notable for their craftsmanship and a favorite of mine, the red barn with the “World of Pigeons” sign on it. The sign has been gone for over a decade, but it’s still up there in my memory. The tunnels are landmarks that help monitor how far we’ve gone. I still look for evidence of the small farm airport that used to be on the eastern side of the Tuscarora tunnel. As a child I remember seeing a windsock flying above a metal shed with the runway bordering a field. The metal shed still stands but the windsock has long ago been shredded by the wind. The site is still considered an emergency airstrip!

    There are the windmills visible from the Somerset Travel Plazas and the Laurel Highland Trail Bridge that crosses the highway. Of all of these sites, I think that my favorite is that of St. John the Baptist Church in the small community of New Baltimore. When heading east this church sits on the right side, at the bottom of the mountains, below the Allegheny Tunnels.

    There used to be stairs going up to the church from the highway. There was a pull off on both sides to allow visits. It was one of the few, if not the only spot where you could get off the turnpike, leaving your car behind. Sadly, recent widening of the road has eliminated this access.

     The community of New Baltimore was first settled in 1829 in the county of Somerset. A railroad yard had been planned to be built there in the 1880’s but unfortunately, it never came to pass. Their hopes of becoming a major railroad yard fell through. The church was built in 1890, replacing a smaller church. This was in anticipation of the railroad moving into the community.

    When the turnpike was built, in 1937, they needed the land that the church owned. With the agreement that they provide pull-offs and steps to the church, the land was given. The church was essentially cut off from the rest of the community by the highway and so a bridge was also provided. The steps allowed travelers to attend Masses and also stop in for prayer and relaxation during their drives. At one time, you could actually catch a Greyhound bus at these steps.

    Recent renovations to the turnpike have removed the steps. Widening the highway and removing some of the sharp curves on the section leading up to the tunnels has rendered the church inaccessible. They have also put up sound barriers which hide New Baltimore from sight. Sad, but at least the church is still visible!

    Ann Marie and I visited this site in 2010 on a trip to Philadelphia. We parked alongside the road and worked our way up the steps, through deep snow. We found a geocache in a near-by covered bridge and then returned to the church to attend Mass along with 5 or 6 other people. We then climbed down the steep treacherous steps to the car and continued on our trip, refreshed both physically and mentally.

    The twisty section of road leading up to the tunnels has changed quite a bit in the past decade. It had more curves and it was a bit narrower than it is now. I could see the cuts where the road used to go as we drove up the mountain side.

    I remember one trip returning from Philadelphia. It was close to midnight on a Sunday night. There was a full moon in the sky that illuminated the road. There were no other cars on the road with me. I was alone as I drove up the mountain, going from one side of the road to the other as I cut the corners. For a short while, I turned off the headlights as I traversed the slope. It was a brief drive that I’ll always remember. Once I got to the tunnel face, it was over; I was back on the turnpike, back to reality. Now that the road has been “modernized and made safe, all I can do is remember the fun I had racing up this mountain side so many years ago.

    Change is one of the things that is constant in our lives. The things we become accustomed to, the objects we use as milestones on our journeys, the landmarks we search for as we drive familiar roads, they all eventually change in some way. It makes me feel sad when they disappear, but I really don’t have any say in the matter. I’m just glad I saw them and still remember them!

My Dogs

I just  finished a book about one of my favorite subjects, dogs! Entitled “The Best Dog in the World”, it is a collection of essays compiled by Alice Hoffman. They are stories about how dogs can change a person’s life.  They are about all sorts of dogs, big, small, show dogs and rescue dogs and the ways they influenced their owner’s lives. Granted, not all of them are happy stories because sadly, their masters usually outlive their charges. There is lots of humor in the book also because any time you have a dog in your life; it usually brings happiness along with it!

    I am the type of guy who moves across the street when he sees a dog approaching. Not to get away from it but to get closer to it and hopefully, to pet it. I have always believed that to get a little dog slobber on me in the morning will help make my day a little bit better. Big, small, it doesn’t matter, as long as they will let me pet them!

    There haven’t been a lot of dogs in my personal life but each one of them has left a bit of themselves with me. They have all loved me without question. The first dog my family got was Villi. (Villi Von Veenersnitzal) He was a black Dachshund. I think he came from a shelter and he wasn’t trained. He and I got along great. I was probably in first grade when we got him. We’d wrestle, run around chasing each other and play tug-a-war. We became great friends. Since he wasn’t trained he didn’t think there was anything wrong with grabbing my hand or arm with his mouth. He never bit down or broke the skin. Some of my friends took this to be aggressiveness rather than playfulness and a couple got scratched, their parents were not happy!

    After a couple times dealing with frantic mothers and neighbors, Villi went to live somewhere else. I came home from school one day and he was gone. I was devastated, my heart was broken.

    Our next dog was a Basset Hound. Romeo was a rescue dog. On a Sunday near Saint Patrick’s Day there was a picture of him in the Pittsburgh Press. He was wearing a plastic hat with a shamrock on it. Even though it was a black and white picture, we knew it was a green hat! His right paw was cocked off to the side as if he was posing and his sad looking eyes and droopy skin made it look as if he needed to be saved. He needed someone to love him. After a lot of begging, we went down to see him and surprisingly, we came home with him.

    While Basset Hounds are quite lovable, they are also quite loud and they love to bark. Wow do they love to bark! They also drool a lot. Strings of saliva started appearing on the floors, furniture and even us. Showing him a dog treat could cause this and whenever he drank some water, not only did his jowls get filled with water, his long ears often hung in the bowl and soaked it up also. We learned from experience to stand back whenever he shook his head.

    He quickly became a part of the family. He loved to be petted and to have his loose skin pulled and rubbed. His eyes always looked so sad but I knew he wasn’t. When we were together he and I were both happy. He lay beside me on the floor while I watched TV, my hand rubbing his soft ears, both of us obliviously in the comfort zone.

    My mother had raised cats, and I had grown up with cats sleeping on the bed with me. When Romeo came along, the cat quickly lost her spot!

    Being a Basset Hound, a hunter by nature and by being blessed with a very sensitive nose, we quickly discovered that his nose was more in control of him than we were. When he smelled something, he let us know it. Loudly! He also loved to run, we had to be careful letting him outside, if he slipped out of our hands before we got him on his run…he was gone. Perhaps that is why he was named Romeo, because he loved to roam.

    I don’t remember how Romeo left my life or maybe I’m just blocking it out. I’m pretty sure he is buried in my backyard along with other pets, cats and dogs, mine and others. It is never easy when you lose a loved pet.

    I didn’t get another dog until the late 80’s. My daughter was just over a year old. I can remember watching her hold onto a small fence looking at a bunch of running, jumping, squealing Weimaraner puppies. One of them, Axel, (Axel Gutterzig Grauhunt) soon became a part of our family and Chelsey’s best friend. A beautiful grey color, he looked regal, he was a great dog. Watching him in the backyard, we could see how he loved to move, his lean body stretching out as he ran. He filled our lives with love and joy. 

    As time passes by, we as humans tend to forget the bad things and remember mostly the fun stuff, at least I do. I believe it’s human nature. I tend to forget about the times we went to the vets because of illnesses or accidents and remember more of the good times, such as when he got a small pumpkin stuck in his mouth, his teeth sinking into the rind and wasn't able to spit it out. Or the time he walked off the back deck, not realizing he was 6 feet off the ground. Oh, he made us laugh… He, like Romeo, loved to run and explore, when he got out, it was tough getting him back before he wanted to.

    As he grew older he started encountering some medical problems. At the vets one day I was told that it might be best for him if he was put out of his misery. I made a decision that I quickly came to regret. I brought his body back home to be buried in the back yard. Like a fool, I hadn’t given any thought to how my daughter would take this. It was just like what happened to me, she came home from school to find out her pet, her friend had gone and she never had the chance to say good-bye. I had lost a pet, but even worse, I had let my daughter down. This was a bad day all around!

    It is very hard to get over the loss of a pet. I found myself saying, “Never again, I just can’t do it! It just hurts too much!"

    It took a while but eventually another hound entered my life. I was simply going to go to the shelter and help walk the dogs, that was the plan. There was a class that needed to be taken before this could be done. Not a problem. Whenever I would go there, before I’d walk them, I’d visit the dogs in the kennel and give them treats while I talked with them. The more I visited the more the idea of another dog grew.

    Not long after I started, Red entered my family. Red was a Redbone Coon Hound. His coat matched his name. He was named by a class of school children, the name fit and so it was never changed.

    Red was a big dog, bigger than he thought. He considered himself a lap dog and that could hurt at times! He quickly claimed a spot on my bed and if I didn’t exert my dominance, he’d claim the larger portion of it. He had a loud howl and wasn’t afraid to use it.

    We went on many adventures. He even came along with us to chase trains! Ann Marie and I endured hours of howling as we drove to hikes or vacations. We even tried ear plugs to tone down the noise. Luckily, we always managed to tire him out and he’d sleep on the way home. Those drives home were so nice and quiet!

    Like the others, the good memories remain. The time he stole a sandwich out of Ann Marie’s hand on a hike or the time he thought that water lilies were solid ground and disappeared into the water after running onto them. I don’t need to remember the bad memories; it’s the good ones that are important!

    Time finally caught up with Red, I took him to his final visit with the vet and another tough decision was made. He didn’t like visiting the vet and often gave them trouble. This time he was too sick and tired to fight or even howl. This time he slowly walked away. I was asked if I wanted to go into the back with him while they prepared him but I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t see him go. I was a coward, I couldn’t watch it happen. I already felt terrible bringing him there and agreeing to that terrible decision.

    To this day I regret not going in with him and comforting him as he was put to sleep. It has been over 5 years since he left and I still miss him. I still have that “never again” attitude, I find it extremely hard to overcome. The pain of losing a pet can be disabling. There is so much that you lose; friendship, companionship and love to name just a few. We have to remember, there is also a lot we can learn from our four-legged friends, trust, the idea of unequivocal love, devotion and how to share these things without saying a word.

    Thank heavens for memories. And also, thank heavens for the dogs I meet that are being walked around the block and for the owners who so happily share their pets with me, helping me overcome the sorrows that buried themselves so deep into my psyche.

    This book has helped me remember the joys of dog ownership and the benefits of having a four legged friend in your life. Perhaps someday, there might be another visit to a shelter in my future...