Peach
was probably the precursor and progenitor of a plethora of present-day Purse
Pups. (Oh, My. Too much caffeine).
My
Aunt Lo was a trend-setter---in more ways than a few. In these days of purse-poodles and Chihuahuas
Some
folks take it a bit far, with all the frills and furbelows and smugglings-in
and those innocent “What noise?”
questions to airline stewards and hotel clerks. The pup-jewelry alone would serve to deck
chorus-lines the world over, and the jacket-and-beret sets in size 000 are the
envy of Barbies far and wide. I swear,
some of the little fellas reflect their owners’
ennui, and it’s a certainty that
perfectly-cooked salmon and breast-of-chicken are sent back on their
tiny Limoge, if Fido shows a sign of disdain.
Bruiser
was a cutie, and Elle the perfect Cocker-Mom, and those dogs are being cared
for better than they dared dream. Why, my
OWN Lady Mother carried around a fledgling Banty Rooster in her apron pocket
every day for months, for fear he’d get under our feet and be harmed. (My sister’s childhood pet, raised in the
house---a long story told in a former post).
But
Aunt Lo carried that pup around in a big ole purse until she walked crooked
from so much weight on one side. She’d
come staggering up the porch steps, draggin’ the bag, her little pumps
straining for the next step, while that sweet little golden face looked out enthusiastically. And when Peach saw Mammaw, she’d do such
energetic squirming that Aunt Lo would fairly have to drop purse, dog and all, to
keep from sprawling on the floor.
Peach was a gorgeous little dog right from the
start, with silky long champagne hair sweeping the floor from coat and tail by
the time she was a few months old. She
eventually wore her ears atop her head, the long trailing hair caught up in
barrettes, for she kept stepping on them and tripping herself.
Peach
later graduated to a leash---but not just ANY leash. Most of the leashes had a cover made-to-match
Aunt Lo’s outfit. She’d save a bit of
the material from every good dress she made, cutting a long strip of the fabric
and sewing it together lengthwise. Then
she’d take a huge safety pin and run it through to turn the tube inside out, then
hem the ends. Every time she washed
and ironed her clothes or sent them to the dry cleaner, she included the
matching strip, and when she hung the garments away, the strip went around the
neck of the hanger to keep the matches together. Once she even cut a big slice off the bottom
of the jacket of a “bought” outfit, shortening it almost into bolero length,
just to make that fancy cover.
Down
over the leash went the cover-of-the-day, plumped out in little poufs like a
pinafored chandelier chain, and the two ladies were ready to step out, even for
a trip to the grocery store---which, in their case, meant spending the
afternoon, for the only real store in town was Aunt Lou’s, and the three
sisters had a visit in the little front heater-space every day except Sundays.
Well, Aunt Lo and Mammaw did, for Aunt Lou
was the dashabout, running to reach down this and get that and slice some
steaks or a “nickel worfa bloney.” Her
visiting was limited to stopping long enough for two puffs off a Chesterfield
And
little Peach would sit at those two ladies’ feet or nearest the stove,
receiving guests for the whole afternoon.
She lived a wonderful life as an only dog, pampered and petted and
treated with more love and care than I believe ANY of her court-bred ancestors
ever knew. They might have sat on
embroidered cushions, being carried around in ornate silky sleeves, but Peach traveled in STYLE.
