When I was a very young girl – I think 13 – I got an
adorable tiny black puppy. I named him Columbo. I liked the detective show of
that same name, and for some weird reason, which I can’t explain, I liked Peter
Falk. I must be a strange girl, or maybe I was strange then and I’m okay now?
I’m not really sure which. I have a scrapbook, like most young girls would
keep. It has clippings of the things that went on in school, report cards,
newspaper photos, movie tickets and many, many pages of pictures of Peter Falk.
In my defense (if I need one) they are only pictures of Peter Falk as Columbo.
You see, to me, he was just the character. I didn’t think he was handsome, not
even in a crumply, cute way. I just liked him enough to keep a scrapbook and
name a puppy after him. I also used to think George Hamilton was handsome – so
much so that I became a Hank Williams Sr. fan when I was 12. George Hamilton
played Hank Williams in a movie. My grandma loved it that I was suddenly a
country music fan – especially that I liked “old” country music. I can say that
I do still like the music of Hank Williams. So, back to my dog, this morning I
posted a photo of a little dog that needs a home onto Facebook. I do that a lot
to help the poor little homeless dogs and cats. My friend from high school saw
it and she remarked that it looked like Columbo. Another friend said it looked
like Toto. I am also a huge Wizard of Oz fan. In fact, I used to collect all
things Oz. I still have the collection, but I no longer add to it, not in any
big significant way. So now I can’t get the little dog out of my mind, but I
know I can’t have him. I already have a dog and a cat and they are more than
enough for this little house. We don’t have room, or the means right now to
take another pet. I really hope he finds someone to love him. My little Columbo
dog, he was sweet. I still remember him rolling in the snow – he was still tiny
enough to almost get lost in the Wilbur snow, which is much more impressive
than Tri-City snow. When spring came, my sister got up early to walk downtown
to her job at The Billy Burger (greasy spoon that we all love.) She didn’t
notice, or didn’t care, that Columbo was following her. I found out from my mom
later that morning that my Columbo was dead. A car hit
him when he tried to cross Main Street. I don’t even know why he was outside; I
guess my parents must not have allowed him in the house. I really can’t
remember. I am much more responsible as a pet owner now, but back then it was
small town 70s and no one kept their dogs tied up. I wish I had kept him safe.
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