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Floppy, a Good Dog

Floppy was born in the Summer of 1969. The end of an arduous decade in our nations history. He was part of a litter of our next door neighbor's dog Sam, a beagle. Floppy was practically all Pointer though with large black spots on a white coat. He was the last of the generation of free dogs prior to leash laws being enacted. Floppy was ours but belonged to nature. He would be outdoors during the day and come in at dusk. In the field that bordered our stone wall he would catch garden snakes and mice.


Floppy was our father's dog and every evening he would approach his recliner and offer his paw to be allowed on his lap. He slept at night on an old lounge chair at the base of our cellar stairs. The exit to our cellar was an old door which was left open during the day for him to come and go. He would follow me, my brothers and sisters throughout the Town of Abington as we rode our bikes or played with friends in the neighborhood. He would disappear for days at a time and sometimes longer. We wondered if harm came to him and whether he would return home. He always did. I suspect Floppy created many litters of off springs throughout his life during his absences. Our house was on a highway and Floppy would survive being hit two times. Our father on one occasion went into the woods that bordered our street on Brockton Ave. to carry him out and bring him to the Vet.


I look back with wonder and awe of his life being free. Floppy was with my younger brother and his friends on bikes on a Sunday afternoon in November of 1978 when he was hit for the third time. He did not survive. Our father buried him behind the park bench on the side of our yard against the stone wall. On the back of the bench he attached a plate with the inscription Floppy, A Good Dog.


By Michael Nickley



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