'The Penny Puppy' 'A little penny bank holds a family together through rough times' Family life, and a good family life is often held together with fun, tears, accomplishments, occasions, and sometimes the smallest of things bring families together. It shapes our lives, lets us know we are loved, and in the mix of all of that it teaches us values, kindness, and the appreciation that to achieve a goal it often takes a lot of pulling together and helping each other. Such was and is the way in my family. Let me tell you a little story about a small item that dried many tears, brought the smiles back again, and let us know that we were not alone as long as we had our family. Years ago my parents came into possession of a puppy. He is about a foot tall, has pretty brown eyes, and a little touch of white on his chin. He requires no care other than a little grooming from time to time, and over the years he has been bumped and banged about so much that he has little scars everywhere on his body, but he is OK. I had him out in the garden a little while ago, in the sunshine. He is a puppy worth his weight in gold, and he has been around as long as I can remember. The only different thing about this puppy is the inch long narrow opening in the back of his head, for you see this little puppy is really a ‘puppy bank’. Just as people have ‘piggy banks’ my parents house has a ‘puppy bank’. I can’t recall how it came to be, but all throughout the years, any of us coming and going with our families, and finding change in our purses or pockets automatically put it in the puppy bank or gave it to my parents to put into the bank. Sometimes the poor little ceramic cash canine would be almost too heavy to hold. However he is part of our growing up, and part of our lives to this day. He doesn’t have a name. He is just called ‘THE DOG’. If my parents, or any of us five siblings found extra change we would say it was for the ‘dog’, a statement that is somewhat confusing to those who well knew there was no dog about the house. But ‘the dog’ to us is just accepted, and everybody contributes at one time or another. When my daughter was ten years old, she came home from school and announced that everyone in her class had ‘family traditions’ and she had none! She was in tears. I assured her we did have traditions, and once they were pointed out to her she understood more about what we did have as a family. We did not have all our family near us as her friends did. Our families were in Newfoundland, we were in Nova Scotia, but she did have traditions, those of our extended families and those of our nuclear family. I remember reminding her of the 'Penny Puppy', she thought that tradition was the best of all, and told her class about it the next day. The day I visited my parents a little while ago, I emptied my change purse and Dad said, "Going to feed the dog are we?" We had a great chuckle, because feeding the dog was exactly what it was always called when we added our change to the puppy bank. I went to my parent’s bedroom, put the coins into the dog, and looked around at a cosy, beautifully decorated room, and sitting on the floor by Father's television stand was the battered little puppy bank. But somehow he did not look out of place, because he always has been in their room, and now it is a special thing for a grandchild to go to Nanny and Poppy's room to ‘feed the dog’. One by one they learned the procedure, and one by one they passed it on. My brother had arrived by the time I was through with my deposit. "What’s up?" he asked "I was just feeding the dog, and I think I’ll take his pic!" I told him. Of course nobody is very surprised at me photographing something, but the ceramic dog, how come? I went and fetched the puppy, took him out to the rhubarb patch, took his photo, and walking back through the house I ran into Father, who just looked at me and laughed. He never said a word. He knew I was thinking about the puppy and it's place in our lives. My brother declared that this ceramic piece was very important. It had pulled us through when extra money was needed for a special vacation, a new pair of skates, a warmer jacket, or to stop the tears over a fractured bumper that we had put on Dads’ car-again! When money was tight, the dog was opened and all the coins counted and rolled, everyone would wait with great expectancy for our parents to announce the total. And somehow it would always be enough to cover the cost of whatever the need happened to be. "That dog paid for some good family vacations, nice bikes, and pulled us through some tough times didn’t it?" Dave asked. I had to agree. Because always, with the constant feeding of the dog, even a penny or two, or a quarter now and then, the money would build up to a few hundred dollars. It was splendid when the tradition of spreading a cloth on the table and our parents, with the help of one or two of their offspring, would start ‘the sorting of the coins’. It was the marvelous moment of anticipation at the end of the procedure that made it so exciting, and that little ceramic puppy is special to this day for that very particular family memory. These days, my parents are getting older, but they still ‘feed the dog’. Mother can hardly lift him, and she says the dog is gaining weight, and although the comment is expected, it always brings a laugh. They count the money at Christmas time now and have their choice every year as to where the money will go. It always goes to where they think the need is the greatest. And that is just fine with us. Yes, it is a little battered ceramic puppy, but in our lives it has been of great importance. Everyone contributed, everyone knew where the puppy was, and everyone gained from it in times of misfortune or need when funds were low. The little dog never failed us, and we will never fail him. He is part of our family, part of a group of five rascals who grew up around the coasts of Newfoundland, were educated, found jobs, and in due time started our own families, and in so doing we started our own traditions within our own homes. I can tell my son and daughter that 'Yes, we do have traditions', those of our family together and those of their parent's families. They are all precious, giving us moments to remember. By starting their own families they will begin new traditions for themselves. But for us, four girls and one boy, and a mom and dad, we have the tradition of our ‘penny puppy’, the little dog that pulled us through some rough spots, that we still ‘feed’ and we all still ask at Christmas time, "How much in the dog this year Dad?" With great anticipation we await his answer, which he takes his time telling us-just for the heck of it. The ‘Penny Puppy’ is our special custom. A reminder of how pulling together as a family, of working together as a unit, of caring and sharing with each other, is so essential. It is amazing that we learned so much from a little ceramic dog, and a pair of parents who knew the deprivation of the depression years and the value of a ‘penny.' .My parents are great- grandparents now and will continue to teach that lesson to their great-grand children. Yes, we will always ‘feed the dog’ and hopefully pass on the lesson taught to us by a little ornamental puppy and a mother and father who knew the meaning of the word ‘NEED,' and advised us never to ‘get your needs and your wants mixed up’. And I hope we never do! Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe   Submitted By: Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe