Although Ginger was the second Chow in our family,
she was the one responsible for making me
a lifelong Chow owner and lover.
She entered my life when I was 10 years old
and she was a six month old puppy.
She was small only thirty pounds at her heaviest,
she was a loyal, brave and devoted companion.
Ginger was timid around strangers - especially men,
but she loved children and eagerly greeted all our friends.
My younger sister and I would dress her up in baby clothes
and wheel her around in our doll carriage.
People stared in wonder when they came over to admire a baby
and found a woolly red Chow face wearing a baby
bonnet looking back at them.
Whenever I was unhappy or upset,
my parents told me to go “pet the love battery.”
I would go to Ginger and hug her.
It was impossible to stay mad or upset after she
wagged her tail lovingly and gave me kisses.
Ginger died during my first year of college.
I wasn’t there and didn’t get a chance to say good-bye.
Mom tried to make me feel better
by telling me she died because she missed
me so much, but that only made me feel worse.
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