Morey was the name of the best dog our family ever had. He was a small dog with mostly black fur and tan highlights. This picture shows the proper coloring but Morey was probably twice as big.
No one is quite sure how we acquired Morey, he was just there one day and never left us. He was the friendliest dog in the world. In fact, he was the neighborhood dog. He knew the neighbors better than we did.
One day one of our unknown neighbors moved away and happened to take Morey with them. Somehow Mom was aware of this dognapping and called the police. I am not sure we ever had hope that Morey would come back. It was a sad day.
Then, next thing you know a yellow cab showed up at our house. We didn’t even know we had yellow cabs in Fremont so when it arrived at our home the neighbors all looked to see what was happening. We were equally perplexed. Why was a cab stopped in front of our house?
The cab driver got out, opened he back door, and out jumped Morey!
Evidently, the police were able to track down Cruella Deville and retrieved our dog but they were too embarrassed to bring a small dog to our house in a squad car. The legend was made that day. The neighborhood always remembered the day Morey came home in a taxi cab.
But, like all great pets, Morey died. This was a quite traumatic death for all of us.
We lived in the corner house. Morey loved to sit in the gutter of the street right at the corner. One day, a large truck took the turn and was unaware that he had cut too close to the curb. In an instant, our poor Morey, minding his own business, sitting at his favorite spot, was run over and killed by the back tire of a big truck.
Luckily, I was in the house when it happened so I never saw the mangled body of my favorite dog. But the neighborhood was traumatized. I was devastated and it was the first time I saw my Mom cry.