Ginger #2’s Story

Our second Ginger is the first puppy that came from a Pet Shop.  A new shopping mall opened not too far from where we lived.   Since I was now driving, Mom and I decided to visit on its grand opening.  Inside the mall was a Pet Shop.  They carried puppies of many breeds.  Inside one of the cages was a black and white puppy that was labeled as a Chihuahua.  In no way, shape, or form did this puppy look like a Chihuahua.  Maybe we were just used to the smallness and the bald apple-shaped head that little Princess had.  I questioned the workers in the shop and told them this puppy looked more like a toy Fox Terrier.  They insisted it was a Chihuahua, and I think Mom agreed to take her just to prove them wrong.  As this pup grew up, it looked more and more like a Fox Terrier.   But we loved her.

Why I chose the name “Ginger” I’ll never know.  She certainly wasn’t ginger-colored, she was black and white.  Was I trying to reincarnate my first Ginger in this puppy?  I still haven’t figured that one out.

Ginger became my Mother’s dog.  Or should I say that my Mother became Ginger’s person?  Wherever my mother went, Ginger went along except to work.  By this time I was in my senior year of high school and also working a part-time co-op job at Chrysler Corporation’s main headquarters in Highland Park.  I didn’t have a lot of time on my hands.

Mom got a ride to and from work from a girl who worked in her office.  In the morning she would get picked up at the house, but at night she was always dropped off at the corner about a block away.  Grandma would tell me how Ginger always knew the time that Mom was due home.  Grandma would watch at the window for Mom to get out of the car. As soon as she saw her walking, she would let Ginger out the door.  This little dog would run the whole block to meet Mom.  If anybody or anything was in her path, she would just go around and continue running to meet Mom.  The neighbors would all be sitting on their porches watching, and Ginger really became the talk of the neighborhood.

Ginger was still with Mom in 1968 when I got married and moved away.  I guess because of this, I was glad that Ginger was bound to Mom and not to me.  The first months of our marriage we lived in a place where dogs weren’t allowed.  It would have been very hard to leave her behind.  At least this way I knew her life wasn’t changing and I could still visit her often.

This is Ginger as a puppy.

This is Ginger and me.  The
car was a rental car.

This is Ginger and me again.

Mom playing hide n’ seek with Ginger.  She was hiding in Ginger’s crate.