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From Grandma's Album... Go HomeDuring the years when the shore cottage was being built we had a dog that adopted us. We told him to "GO HOME!", but he thought that was his name and so it stuck. He guarded our summer-house shore property.
Why anyone wanted to get rid of Go Home, we could never figure out; he was so very lovable and loyal. No one could get near our place, we were told, without a ruckus from bared-teeth Go Home. Of course, we always fed him, bringing him Mother's delicious soup bones that he could savor until the next visit.
He stayed with us until summer. Then we gave him to a baker lady who needed protection. He returned to us twice, then he was secured at her place and stayed. We had worried about him because there was no one to feed him when we were in the city in the winter.
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A handsome young German Shepherd, he was frisky and energetic and apparently loved children. Rumor had it that a car speeding through in the night stopped by our property and dumped him, or so our resident year-’round neighbors averred. He loved our place and always greeted us with an enthusiastically wagging tail and friendly barking. Where he slept, I never knew; but he was always there – our faithful guard dog – during our weekly excursions to our summer cottage which we were still building.
Charles and I romped with him and only a ten and twelve year old brother and sister could, games of Fetch and Chase until we all flopped on the ground, panting. He was great on ice – pulled us on our ice-skates and played ice-hockey with us, never tiring until we did.
