My Earliest Memories in Life

My parents and Rosalyn were living on Osborne Avenue in Verdun when I was born and it is here that I learned about love, passion and the heartbreak of losing a loved one.


The houses on Osborne were mainly two story tenement flats occupied by blue collar workers. We lived on the second floor while across the street, living on the ground floor were dads sister Gladys, her husband George Ferguson and their kids. Our family was always a close knit group, on both  sides.


Our building was between Wellington and Verdun Avenue and our grandmother, Mom's mother was on Egan Ave between Verdun Ave and Bannintyne Ave. Pat and Vi Hawkins were a couple of blocks away on Beatty and mom's cousins, the Wilcoxes, lived in the avenues


When I was about three our father bought us a dog, a magnificent black white and tan collie named Skipper. Skipper had an amazing temperament and when he was fully grown he would allow me to ride him pony style. We would romp around the flat from Roz and my room to the living room.


Skipper was my first love.


One hot summer evening there was much commotion outside our living room window, dad looked out and said to mom "keep the kids in the house, I'll be right back". Mom went out on the front balcony to see what was happening and sis and I could hear shouting from our dad so we snuck out on the balcony and lay down to watch. There was Skipper he was performing the heimlich maneuver a neighborhoods dog. She was howling with fear as Skipper hugged her from behind. I asked mom what was going on, she said "They're fighting, now go inside". Roz and I ran to look out the living room window.


My dad was standing on the sidewalk arguing with a police officer as the cop stood over Skipper, gun in hand, aimed at our beloved pet. Finally dad said look officer my kids are in the window watching, you cannot shoot their dog while they are there.


Suddenly Skipper loosened his grip on her and dad took him by the collar and brought him home as we wept at that front window. That's when I learned that in the heat of passion the male species has no fear, even when faced with death.


The following year Skipper was off cruising around the neighborhood looking for floozies when we heard a loud thump and a dog yelp down toward Wellington. Several minutes later a neighbor came up the street and informed our parents that Skipper had been hit by a car. That night as we sat around the living room mom and dad broke the news to us. I was only five damn it. That's when I learned to grieve.