Two long-dead pets

by

John J. Dunphy

I joined the Dunphy family on December 8, 1953. The dog and cat in these old photos, however, were already family members in good standing. I was never able to learn where, when and how my parents acquired Shag, the dog. That’s Shag with my maternal grandmother, Maude Koch (1895–1978), who lived with us. The photo dates from the 1950s.

I have few memories of Shag. One day he simply disappeared. I recall being in the car with my father as we drove around the neighborhood looking for him.

The cat is Coochie. She is in the arms of Helen Dromgoole (1902–1949), my great aunt, who died of cancer. Helen was Maude’s kid sister. My mother told me that Aunt Helen found Coochie taking refuge from a night rain in a doorway in nearby St. Louis.

Please — no jokes or snide remarks about the cat’s name. I was told that Aunt Helen was a classy lady. Orphaned with her siblings when they were still children, she had a government job in Springfield, IL. Aunt Helen lived in her Springfield apartment during the week and came home to Alton on weekends.

In her day, the belly dance was sometimes called the hoochie coochie. People sometimes addressed babies with the nonsense phrase “Coochie-Coochie-Coo!” Aunt Helen would never have named her beloved feline after a woman’s vulva. Indeed, she probably didn’t even know that meaning of the word.

Coochie came to live with my parents, Jack and Dorothy Dunphy, after Aunt Helen’s death. I have very few memories of Coochie. In fact, I wouldn’t have been able to identify her had she not been with Aunt Helen in this photo. I do recall, however, my childhood bedtime prayer that my mother taught me, included a “God bless Coochie” along with a long list of other God blesses.

Sadly, my most vivid memory of this cat is finding her dead body. It would have been in the 1950s because I was very young. My mother and I went looking for Coochie and found her by the curb on Alby Street near its intersection with East Twelfth Street, where we lived. She had been struck by a car. Coochie was motionless except for her long fur that was blown by the wind.

I will turn 71 next month, which means that I am probably the last person who remembers Shag and Coochie. That’s why I wrote this narrative. I won’t be around much longer and I wanted to make sure the memory of these two sweet little creatures doesn’t die with me.

If there is some kind of afterlife, I hope to be reunited with Shag, Coochie and all my deceased dogs and cats. If not, I will gladly join them in the great void. If oblivion was their fate, I want to share it with them.

John J. Dunphy is a writer who owns The Second Reading Book Shop in Alton, IL.