It is with a pang of regret but many happy memories that I remember the late Mindy Pickstone. My families last pet dog. She passed earlier this week; from what can only be described as old age, and leaves everyone she ever meet with muddy paw prints at about waist height. While only a medium sized dog she always found reason to bound up to greet a returning or fresh face.
She is and will always be the first dog I knew from day dot, and was as loving and loyal as you’d expect of her kind. An English Springer Spaniel a breed my father painstakingly picked out. She loved wide open spaces, the water and above all else the lap of a willing participant settled down in front of the television. I think Dad still suspects she willed herself to remain that little bit smaller than usual, in order to keep the privilege of being a lap compatible canine. He’d lovingly label her a ‘runt’ of a dog, but her nuzzled snout against his favourite chair was always enough to secure her an occasional snoozing place upon his lap.
Mindy could very easily have been a rat and not a dog at all. Many years had passed since my family’s first dog; Rani passed from old age. My younger sister starting to get a little stronger in her convictions of having a family pet, and after a weekend of looking after some school rats she made a startling declaration. Years of prior hassling for a dog hadn’t paid off as she could never counter the argument of what to do with a canine when the family was away for the weekend. My sister calculated that with feeding bottles and food rat’s where much lower maintenance and the same argument couldn’t prevent her from having at a pet if not a dog.
After hitting up the research books on what type of Dog was right for our family, Dad and Mum announced to us kids that they'd organised a puppy for the family and we'd be picking her up from Melbourne in a couple of months. It might have been weeks and while I'm filling in a few of the gaps with assumptions, the announcement only felt like a day or two after my sister's declaration of rat ownership. My sister either through pure genius or complete dumb luck had won, and the family was better for it.
I still remember driving up in to the then strange hills of the outskirts of Melbourne to pick her up from the breeders. Dad likes to do these kinds of things right, so she was a pure breed English Springer Spaniel, now 16 years older and hopefully a little wiser I realise that she likely cost a pretty penny too, a price she returned in spades. If I recall correctly Mum and Dad had secured her as the last of the litter so we didn't have much choice in which pup we where taking home. Even at that early age she was a little smaller than her siblings, but showed the same canine curiosity as her kindred, greeting us strangers at her Mothers pen.
It was a decent drive back to my Aunties where we where staying that night and then a much longer trip back to Portland her eventual stomping ground. I think spending so much time in the car with us initially gave her an absolute love for car trips. Car was one of the first words she ever learned to recognise. Upon hearing it uttered she'd bound to life and circle frantically between the front door, garage door and the kitchen draw that her lead was stored in. All necessary in her puppy brain to make sure she was included in any potential adventure.
Even a week old she was the centre of a family tale I’ll never forget. The so called fool proof system that Dad insisted would give everyone an equal say on her naming. This system inevitably tied with boys versus girls so unmistakeably she was named as the ladies of the house wished. I ultimately found more joy in Dad's claims that his system was infallible, so at the end of the exercise at least three of us where happy, and I think Dad had more fun coming up with the system than interest in the name in the end anyway.
She had the same energy explosion upon hearing the phrase 'walk' uttered in mid sentence as she did when hearing ‘car’, always keen for another wander through the streets of her stomping ground. In her early years my sister and I made the mistake of teaching her to run before she could walk. On roller blades or bicycles we'd use her to propel us all over the neighbourhood inspired by her raw puppy enthusiasm. It would be almost a decade before she out grew the desire to tug on a lead and while a mistake at the time, it crafted her into the dog we all knew. Her later years on the lead might have had fewer children's giggles but her enthusiasm never wavered as she accompanied a combination of Mum, Dad or both around the Fawthrop Lagoon. The image of Mindy returning muddy and water logged is as true to her being as curled up on a lap and snoozing.
She didn’t seem to pick favourites and loved every family member equally. If any of the four of us weren’t home she’d happily camp by one of the many front facing windows and keep an eye out for our safe return. We soon realised that the windowed outside world was a bit like a dog TV. A deep rumble of a bark would occasionally accompany a ruffling of the curtains. It sounded so out of character to her temperament, I’d be amazed if she didn’t surprised her self the first time she let out her rumbled low bark.
To as loyal and loving a dog as any family could ever wish for, we thank you for the memories Mindy. You will be sorely missed and forever remembered, you where the perfect companion and gave more than you ever asked for, may you rest in peace as you continue to your next walk of life ...
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