We had a dog when I was a kid. My parents spotted a black puppy outside of a shop in Bennington ,Vt. . He was the runt of his litter, so they say. A Black Lab without papers. I believe they paid 25 or 35 dollars for him. I was visiting my grandparents’ farm when the rest of the family came to own him. When we were introduced, my parents thought I should name him, since I had missed the excitement of finding him. They had been looking for a Black Lab and mentioned many times how lucky they were to spot him. I liked the name Sam, but the name Lucky was mentioned as a possibility. We decided to leave his name to a flip of a coin.
“Lucky” became a neighborhood legend.
He was a black lab and something else.
His bloodline wasn’t the best.
Whatever he was, he was one of a kind
And stood out from the rest.
Played with all kids in the neighborhood
We needn’t worry ’bout dangers.
Many a times his hackles were raised
At the sight of any adult strangers.
Oh how he loved to ride in the car,
He’d hide down on the floor.
Wouldn’t come when he was called
T’was freedom he adored.
Traveled through the neighborhoods
Black pups were here and there,
Treed raccoons and dug some holes,
Adventures… had his share.
To this day, he’s thought of still.
Been thirty years and more,
He’s talked about at campfire chats
Our Lab of local lore.