When I was a child my Dad’s bedtime stories were very popular. They were all about his boyhood. The stories usually involved his dog, ‘Bobby’, and came to be known as ‘Bobby Stories’.
Bobby was a middle sized brown dog of dubious parentage. He was skilled in bringing slippers and papers to his master and fetching sticks and balls. Bobby’s loyalty was unquestioned.
|Bobby with his master, Alex and his|
three older sisters.
‘Bobby Stories’ made an impression on me and, when I had my own dog years later, I called him ‘Bobby’.
When we were feeling devilish, we teased dad to tell us the story about how his mother caught him sawing the legs of the dining room chairs. Dad feigned shock that we knew about this secret of his past, but he saw the funnier side of the anecdote.
|Alex, at work with the toy saw. (Approx. 1914)|