Little Yappy Dog

c. 1968

I have had this sweet tray since I was 5 and living in Chappaqua, NY. Our house, with its huge stone walls, was partway up a steep, winding road and my girlfriend lived at the bottom of the hill. I would walk (alone…at five years of age…) down to her home, cutting through some yards to shorten the winding path.

My friend’s home seemed ancient, with small rooms and very creaky floors. Looking back, I suspect it was built in early 1800s. It had a shed garage storing a very old Model T Ford with a rumble seat. The girl -whose name is long gone in my memory – and I played on that car for hours.

The reason I suspect I was gifted the tray is because they had a little, yappy dog. Honestly, I’m not minding the idea that everyone who owns a little, yappy dog needs to gift me something, but that’s an aside. The real issue is that the dog was nasty, and particularly didn’t like strangers in its house. So, it bit me – I still have the scar on my forearm. Problem was it had not been given a rabies vaccine, and there was great concern. So off I went to Dr. West’s house. Back in the day, the doctor’s office was his home – I even remember him making house calls. But realistically, with a family with 7 children, that may have been good business sense. I don’t recall the details but I vaguely recall I had a round of extremely unpleasant shots.

And so, the girl’s mother painted the tray for me as a get-well gift. As I wrote this essay, I could not recall the original artist name who created the charming girl character. Before you get on your millennial high horse, I did try google image search, and oddly it insisted it was the Morton Salt character. Yellow raincoat and umbrella maybe? A bit later - most likely in the middle of the night - I dredged up the name: Joan Walsh Anglund. I suspect there are a few more of you out there that had these books back in the 1960s. This tray, which hangs in my sewing room, always brings a smile to my face, regardless of the nasty yappy dog.