In the 1970’s unregistered mixed breed dogs were called mongrels. That word! So close to the word scoundrel; a villain from the pages of a Charles Dickens novel. People thought of them as second-rate dogs. Their parentage was questionable and most of them were nuisances. Prejudice against them ran high.
You could buy a scoundrel, um…I mean a mongrel for $25 at the local shelter, which is where I got my first dog, Shandi. I was twelve years old. She was twelve weeks old. When the kennel attendant put her in my arms, I experienced heaven; she was a hodge-podge of wriggling parts. Her breath smelled like warm, sweet milk. I turned her upside down and marveled at her hairless belly, pink and smooth as the chamber of a conch shell. A 12-year old girl finds bliss.
I was the youngest in the dog obedience class offered by the town’s Park and Recreation. Shandi was the only mongrel. She had some shepherd in her, we thought, but, back then, there were no DNA tests…
