|Birth: ||May 20, 1972|
New Jersey, USA
|Death: ||Jun. 2, 1976|
New Jersey, USA
PK (short for Parchese King) Pumpkin Snoopy was a beagle belonging to my family. He was a beautiful little dog, smart and fiesty. He was pretty much untrainable but only because he thought himself too smart to listen to humans. At the suggestion of a friend we entered him into a AKC dog show. He had no formal training but, when placed in the ring with a show lead on he seemed to know. His stance was perfect and he acted as if he was born to be in shows. In his short life he won 7 ribbons, two trophies and our love always. He was the son of two show dogs. Johnson's Black Joe and Felty's Progress.
P.K. loved noise, if he had been used as a hunting dog, my grandpa would say, he was perfect. He had hunting dogs that hated noise and would not hunt. But, P.K. he loved noise, he loved yelling and screaming and at times it would seem like he would go out of his way to get in trouble so he would get yelled at. If you came into our yard and you yelled for him, he would come running from where ever he would be.
His favorite thing to do, after eating that is, was to steal my mom's slippers. He would only steal the left one and chew it to shreds. It was very common to see my poor mom walking around the house with two different right slippers on because P.K. would rip them right off her feet. It got so she would scream the minute he approached and that made him happy and saved her the pain of the dog's teeth wrapped around her foot. He didn't mean to hurt her, I don't think P.K. could hurt a living thing, but he did like his slippers. Every other shoe in the house was safe, except mom's left slipper. Things were so bad, one year my step father and I ended up getting my mom over 70 pair of slippers. I guess we should have talked, but we just kept buying them and Christmas morning she had a few in every color and style. P.K. had them all taken care of by March though and we had to start all over again. My mom was usually pretty cool with this ritual. He was a good and loving dog, but when he would surprise her, and grab her when she wasn't expecting it, she would be furious. One day he got her good, she really let out a scream and he was in his glory...well she was so mad she said "That's it, I'm getting the broom" most all our dogs knew that meant they were not in her good graces at that point. She usually would chase them behind the couch and the dog would just hide out until she calmed down. Now she would never hurt the dog, but this one day she was so mad at P.K. she might have...grabbing the broom she lifted it over her head to hit him with it...actually I know she would have hit near him to scare him...well, P.K. won that battle. My mom hit the light fixture on the ceiling and the globe fell off of it, hitting and breaking on her back. That got rid of the foot pain and P.K. even knew it wasn't a good day at the house. She was crying and P.K. came out from behind the couch to console her. You couldn't stay mad at those big brown eyes. He sat at her side and she knew it was really her fault for the globe hitting her. They gave each other a good hug and everything was fine, but he still loved to make her yell and steal her slippers. Some habits die hard.
P.K. could make you crazy, but yet we loved him so very much. The day he died, my grandpa, step-father, mom and I took him to the Pet cemetery. My mom paid for the best grave, we had the best of everything for our little buddy. He was laid to rest and we were told when his memorial plaque was completed we would be called and we could have another ceremony to place the marker on his grave. Well, two days after the burial, my mom couldn't take it. She left work early and when she got home she did things that she never did before. My stepfather questioned her about why she backed her car in the driveway, why she didn't want to put it in the garage. All she said was don't ask questions and refused to answer anymore. Later that night, after dinner and we were in bed, she woke up my step-father, woke up her dad, and woke me up. At 2AM in the morning we were all out in the yard digging a hole, she finally told us, she couldn't take P.K. being so far away so she had him dug up. We understood, because we all felt the same way. Having him 55 miles or so away was too much. The plaque finally came and the cemetery called us to pick it up. He now rests forever in our back yard. He was my friend, my pal, and always my buddy. He had a way of getting into all sorts of trouble then looking at you with the biggest brown eyes, and melting you to mush. RIP my dear little buddy. You were my first and I will never forget you.
PK was one of a kind, although his very own nephew would be my second dog, there would never be another like PK. PK's brother was Lonnie's father. Please stop by and visit PK's nephew and my second dog.
And my other fur babies.
My Beloved Pets
Specifically: PK was not cremated but buried in Blairstown Pet Cemetery. The plaque shown is from there. Two days after his funeral my mom couldn't stand him being so far. She made them dig him up and he rests peacefully in his back yard.
Created by: An Angel Above
Record added: Mar 28, 2004
Find A Grave Memorial# 8570645