A Dog Named Punk...and he was one!

My first dog was in 1967 and he was named Punk. We got him around Halloween and I named him Pumpkin, but I was too young to pronounce it. So the shortened version was Punk...and he was one.

It was different then...no doggy daycare, no leash walking. He was free range and followed my brother and I everywhere. At feeding time, my Dad would whistle and a few minutes later, he would trot up, wagging his tail and ready to eat.

He barked at the night, constantly sniffed with that big snout, caught fist sized rocks like they were tennis balls, and jumped into the local Country Club pool.