Rooty-Toot-Toot

Rooty-Toot-Toot was mom's dog around the time when she was pregnant with me. Mom had found her as an infant puppy lying by the side of the road, emaciated and shivering. Mom adopted her on the spot, and gave her the name "Dana."

When mom took Dana to the veterinarian, the vet told her that she was very ill. So ill, in fact, that the medicines required to save her life might kill her, she was so weak. Mom took Dana home and force fed her with an eye dropper, every few minutes (she could not hold down more than a few droplets at a time). After a few sleepless nights, Dana fattened up nicely and regained her health enough to be treated.

Dana, in her newfound health, developed into a powerful dog and a vivacious, energetic person, earning her the nickname "Rooty-Toot-Toot." She also developed a strong, unquestioning and unconditional loyalty to my mother (mom seemed to have that same effect on almost all the people in her life, with the exception of those men in her life whom I know, more's the pity). When I was born a few months later, Rooty became my first friend and a guardian. I have some vague memories of Rooty, but I am sure I was a cross to bear! Mom told me that Rooty was smart enough to pull me away from electrical sockets and other dangers. She also, allegedly, kept me from going AWOL when she could, and accompanied me herself when she could not.

Rooti had one odd habit; she would chase her tail until she caught it, then she would worry at it until it bled. Other than that, she was a most stable, sand, and intelligent canine being.

Rooti had a litter of puppies when I was five with a German shepherd owned by mom's friend Skip Lance. I remember helping to find the puppies homes. We kept Harry, who was my dog first and then Carla's after we left for Egypt in 1976 (I vaguely remember something about Rooty being Carla's at one point also, but that memory is quite vague and shadowy. Carla: What is the fact of the matter?). When I returned to Chapel Hill in 1990, I got to meet Harry again as an old, debilitated, and utterly wonderful dog.


The photo is of mom and Rooty-Toot-Toot in 1970, a few months before I was born.

All of this reminds me that I asked Sarah a while ago how mom's last dog, Molli, is doing. Perhaps she will get around to answering me soon.