Homesick? Or just miss Snowball?
It seems that dogs and their tragic demise marked the passage of time when I was a kid. When we lived on York Avenue here in Warren, Snowball, a beautiful white Eskimo spitz, was our family dog. I spent many hours as a 3 and 4 year old crawling around on the floor and napping with him under the stove that stood on 4 high legs in the kitchen. One day, Snowball limped home with his usually spritely tail bent down and his head hanging very low. He crawled up the porch steps and lay at my feet. It turned out that he had really mixed it up with that dreaded purple-tongued chow down at the ...