Our family lived on a dead end street, and with the fathers off to work all day, there was hardly any traffic. Mostly it was kids riding bikes, roller-skating, playing kickball.
But sometimes you didn’t feel like playing, because something had made you sad, or thoughtful, and all you wanted to do was sit on the front steps.
And Old Brownie would be sure to find you, and sit down next to you, and by and by, you felt much better.
Brownie belonged to the widow next door, Mrs. Thomas, and she let him wander because he was wise enough not to leave our street, he never made any kind of trouble, and everybody loved him. I was kind of scared of dogs, but never of Brownie, even though he was as big as me. Any kid who was feeling blue could count on Old Brownie for sympathetic company.
I’d trade all the lawn mowers, weed whackers, and leaf-blowers in the world for ten more minutes with Old Brownie.
I grew up, initially, just outside a small midwestern city. While the city was visible, we were in the country and those rules applied. Dogs ran free, but were never a bother. We knew all the dogs in the neighborhood, most of whom were gentle and friendly. One old shepherd mix specialized in obstructing traffic, by lying in the middle of the road. For the most part, people just tolerated it.
We had a dog of our own and she was a friend to me, commiserating when I was sad, but always ready to play. I sure miss the peace of those days.
Old Brownie sounds like the makings of a book series 🙂 On our residential street my friend across the street had a Heinz 57 dog named Heidi that was very much like Old Brownie.
I think you have to be Jim Kjelgaard to write a book like that.