As I mentioned in Part I, not only were all of my childhood dogs named Skippy, but I have had a love of dogs my entire life. I honestly do believe our four legged friends have the unimaginable ability to pierce our very souls with their eyes of devotion. It is as though they are seeking out our approval and reciprocal feelings of kindness and love. 

Skippy number two never ventured too far from me. Even when it was dark or cloudy, his presence was like my shadow. Down the street from our school was a traffic intersection and on the other side was a triangular piece of grass which made a great makeshift baseball field. Skippy was acting as the dedicated fan, watching the impromptu game of ball when he spotted me on the other side of the street. As if north and south magnetic poles, our eyes locked onto each other as I yelled, “Here Skippy.” My obedient boy came running toward me at lightning speed. Then the screech, bang and the air was filled with my screams. The traffic light had turned green the very moment my fella entered the intersection and a car had hit him. The skids marks on the road were proof enough of the accident. Yet, mysteriously, Skippy survived. Like someone being attacked by a swarm of killer bees, he took off running. I was sure he was dead and this was just his last jaunt.

“It was my fault mom,” I said regarding Skippy’s accident. “Oh honey, he’ll be okay,” my mom replied, half heartily, trying to be reassuring. As if a machine gun had blasted holes through my torso, I was riddled with guilt for calling out his name. I was convinced that I had caused the accident. If only I hadn’t called out his name then none of this would have happened.  How could I have been so careless? Why did I have to act like a stupid kid? My grief was short lived however, as Skippy eventually came back home, with bloodied head and eye. He had survived and our bond grew deeper.

Skippy’s undying trust of those around him proved to be his undoing. As I mentioned in Part I, the true animals in this world walk on two legs, not four. There are some real evil characters among us. They take great joy in their torturous treatment of loving animals. Why do some act this way? I have no idea. That is for the sociologists, psychologists and psychiatrists to figure out.

The group consisted of street thugs as they swooped up Skippy’s body and hurled him over a bridge and into a rocky creek below. Skippy survived this ordeal. Hell bent on destroying my dog, the group did it to him again and again he survived….but now, Skippy had changed. He no longer trusted strangers and he would aggressively go after anyone he didn’t recognize. There was a particular dislike of those in uniform, a postal uniform or even the green shirt and pants worn by those employed in blue collar jobs. It is as though the incidents at the bridge had reopened the scars of Skippy’s treatment, long before we had rescued him.

When my parents new home was being built, Skippy bit the men delivering the lumber and then he went after the postman. He bit the postman not just once, but twice. On the second occasion, while holding onto his collar with all my strength, he literally dragged me across the front lawn in his madness to rid our property of the uniformed postman. With his behavioral change and the postal office no longer delivering mail to our home, Skippy’s fate had been sealed. I wasn’t home when my mother and father returned my friend and buddy to the SPCA. Skippy was gone for good. 

I was lonely without my dog. A boy and a dog is not just a statement, but for me it was a way of life. Soon Skippy number three would be entering my domain. The story will continue in “My Love of Dogs Part III.

WRITTEN BY: DENNIS L. PAGE

OTHER ARTICLES WRITTEN BY: DENNIS L. PAGE INCLUDE:

http://socyberty.com/issues/my-love-of-dogs-part-i

http://socyberty.com/politics/24-hour-news-cycle-killed-real-news

http://authspot.com/short-stories/the-hooker-therapist-hairy-man-and-a-tanning-bed

A postal carrier in Wisconsin was arrested for delivering the post in her birth-suit. He says he simply wanted to cheer-up a woman, who seemed stressed out. So he decided to deliver the mail in buff.

The 52- year old postman had already told the woman that he would deliver the mail in the nude, to make her laugh. And true to his word, he brought the mail wearing only his smile.

The mail carrier was arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior a few days later. He now regrets as to why he decided to make the lady feel happy and instead getting a reward, he was sent to the jail. What a stupid way to make some one happy. He thought his sexy looks would make her feel a little better.

Image via Wikipedia

Regular readers of my work will know I have travelled and lived in most of the home counties in the UK.  Mr please thank you is a nick-name I was unceremoniously given by a work colleague in Leicester. I was working as a Post Man in a very busy area of Leicester. There were hundreds of Post Men and women working in that particular area.

Apart from having a London accent I stood out from the other employees in one regard? Manners! I would ask a question followed if necessary by a please. In the same vein if I would receive an answer to my question  it would be followed by a thank you. When I was given my letters and parcels to file and prepare for my 4 mile walk I would say thank you to the person who gave me the letters and parcels.

When I had to deliver mail which needed to be signed for I would say thank you to the person who signed the register. Sometimes if I need to phone someone or text someone I say sorry to disturb you if it is not a person I know. Manners are sorely missing in today’s society.

Attitudes have changed as far as I am concerned for example. I worked for a year in Sloane Square in the centre of London as a Service Advisor in a garage. This journey involved 3 trains and a car drive from where I lived. On the London underground the carriages are very crowded. Standing room only was not unheard of. One particular day I saw a heavily pregnant woman standing up in the middle of the carriage, I stood up and gave her my seat, many men and women shook their heads and mentioned that I was old fashioned!

On a similar journey a few weeks later a young Japanese boy maybe 7 years of age was travelling in my carriage, he was dressed in a school uniform, I assumed he was on his way to a private school looking at his school crest on his blazer. For some reason I have no idea why he opened the door at the rear of the carriage to enter the next compartment, there was no step and a sign saying do not open when the train is in motion! The underground train was I imagine travelling at 60mph! An adult may have been able to stretch their legs across the gap in the carriages but a child never.

The door was open and I could feel the draught caused by the suction in an underground tunnel. I stood up as fast as I could and grabbed the boy and put him on a seat! I slammed the inter connecting door and tried to tell the boy he must not do that its dangerous! He did not speak English but he got the message. Why was I the only person to help the boy? There was 20 to 25 people in the carriage no one stirred a muscle!

Manners and the way people conduct their lives today is woeful. I am not a saint trust me however I have a modicum of integrity and good manners, All I can ask for in life is for people to treat me the way I treat them? I learned this at an early age from my parents. What is happening to people and their attitudes?

Lord Banks

As a young lad the scantily clad women on the cards were eye opening and as a slightly older young lad, the innuendoes were well worth a titter behind the card rack. Of course you didn’t pick one of those to buy, not in front of mum and dad; you chose a nice view of the resort. Then you took it back to where you were staying to write out to send to your friend back home.

If you were feeling kind the message usually was “Having a nice time, wish you were here.” However if you were that way out, and wanted to remind him that he wasn’t on holiday while you were then it would be, “Having a fantastic time. Wish you were here?”

By the time you were into your teens then inevitably you’d be bold enough to pick and send one of the saucy ones.

During the holiday season I’m sure delivering the mail gave the postman a bit of a giggle.

The Benny Hill type humour reflected British humour that was popular in the late fifties, sixties and seventies and seen in the popular “Carry On” series of films.

They usually contained buxom women, hen pecked husbands and “courting” couples, and always the innuendo or double entendre.

The postcard first appeared in the mid nineteenth century.

In “A brief history of the picture postcard” by Judith & Stephen Holder (FRPS) they write

“The creation of the postcard by Dr Emanuel Hermann in Austria on 1 October 1869 set in motion a revolution in the communication of the ordinary message of no especial importance, the private note, the mundane or jolly remark, the ‘wish you were here’ – indeed any short note for which no real ’security’ was required.

Almost all the main developments in the artistic designs of Postcard art originated on the continent, in Germany, Austria, France, Italy and Switzerland. The two main exceptions which developed in Great Britain were the Comic card and to some extent the Real Photograph cards of social, industrial and village history.”

Jonathan Duffy (BBC News Online) quotes from a book by Collector Tom Phillips.

“They were classless and democratic and the limited space was a blessing to those with poor spelling or without much to say. “

In an essay in 1941, the renowned author George Orwell wrote:

“Who does not know the ‘comics’ of the cheap stationers’ windows, the penny or twopenny coloured post cards with their endless succession of fat women in tight bathing-dresses and their crude drawing and unbearable colours, chiefly hedge-sparrow’s-egg tint and Post Office red?”

“In general, however, they are not witty, but humorous, and it must be said for McGill’s post cards, in particular, that the drawing is often a good deal funnier than the joke beneath it.”

Donald McGill ,was one of several notable illustrators, who among others included Tom Browne, John Hassall, Bruce Bairnsfather and Alfred Lees.

Unfortunately for McGill he was the unlucky one.

In the 1950’s there was a public morals backlash and Watch Committees were set up in seaside resorts. This led to the 81 year old McGill being prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act of 1857, and several of his cards being destroyed.

These are some of those vintage postcards.

They seem somewhat tame by today’s standards. It was enough however to cause confusion to the shop owners selling them and to cause several printers to cease trading.

After a couple of years this “do-gooder” attitude subsided and the illustrators and printers were back in business.

How are postcards faring in today’s “techno” climate?

In a recent survey the broadcaster ITV said that the number of postcards sent has dropped by 75 per cent. It showed that 67 per cent of those surveyed used emails or photos while on holiday, to keep in touch with family and friends.

And Donald McGill?

In 1994 the Royal Mail brought out a set of commemorative stamps featuring McGill’s postcards.

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Or for George Orwell’s essay

The Art of Donald McGill