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Marty’s Memories: More Dog Stories by Marty Trower

Most of my crazy memories are infused with dog stories, many taking place on or very near Chebeague. We went on many adventures in our old wooden sailboats. The Toohey, Trower, and Hubbell families used to love to visit other islands in Casco Bay, especially the uninhabited ones, back when our parents were young and welcomed the challenges of finding a place to anchor near an appealing picnic site. I remember easing into a sheltered cove at Moshier Island, the grownups panicking about going up on the hidden rocks at low tide or nervous that the bottom was too muddy to hold the Danforth anchor they kept stowed under the deck of the bow, and there was lots of arguing and fussing. We didn’t go to Moshier often, maybe because of the difficulty anchoring there, but this time, they were resolute and our anchors held and we were ready to explore. While the grownups took turns rowing people and picnic stuff onto the stony beach, we kids were going nuts with anticipation. One of us had spotted a yellow wooden lobster buoy washed up on the shore, and when we landed, we splashed into the shallow water and raced for the snarly pile of rope that held the buoy. Each one of us, together and then alone tried to free the alluring treasure with numbers burned into its surface. It was impossible, and gradually all the kids drifted away. Not known for patience, I surprised everyone by returning to the tangled heap after all the other kids had given up and gone off to the fire to have a hamburger. Needless to say, I still have that yellow buoy, my trophy, hanging from the underside of the back-porch roof. After lunch, we all wandered around and Norah Toohey (now Alper) and I ended up walking farther along the shore together. Somehow both of us seemed to have the idea that it might be fun to walk around the island that we knew nothing about. We took Orion with us. Orion was the Tooheys’ black Labrador dog that had been run over by a car, partially paralyzing one of his front legs. Orion had all the energy and stamina that young dogs have and thought nothing of bobbing along with us, happily maneuvering three legged along the rocks and seaweed with us, the dead part of his injured leg hanging down and scraping on

whatever it encountered. It wasn’t long before the fun and thrill of being alone on this escapade wore off. The tide was coming in fast, but we kept going thinking that we’d probably come around and fetch up at our picnic site any moment. The tide got so high that the shore disappeared, and we had to walk along the edge of the bank. Orion’s limp paw became scraped and bloody. We took off our socks and used them to cover the useless paw until they too were worn through and offered no protection from the abrasive surface of our route. This was the pivotal moment I remember. Norah, several years younger than I, started to cry, and no matter that I was the big kid, I joined her and we wailed and clung to each other while Orion good-naturedly panted and wagged his tail at us. At this moment, we spotted our cat boat, the Islander, coming around the point, and our parents admonished us to stay right where we were so they could pick us up. Because they were so relieved that we had not tried to go inland and get really, really lost, they were not as mad at us as they could have been. That should have been the end of the story, but there is more. Eventually, Orion had to have the bottom half of his front leg amputated. He adjusted well and hopped about athletically for the rest of his happy life. The funny story that ensued came from Joyce Souchek, another of the island’s great storytellers. She claimed that one summer day after Orion’s recovery, he had run into the woods near their home on Soule Road and disappeared just before Joyce and her guests from the mainland came down the dirt road with their black Labrador. He too was active and enthusiastic and decided to run into the woods and see what was there. A few minutes later, Orion came bursting out of the woods, all happy and friendly, but of course he had only three legs. Joyce’s guests screamed and wondered how this could have happened to their dog in such a short time. Luckily, before Joyce had even had a chance to tell Orion’s story, their own dog emerged from the woods, looking just fine and four legged. Orion, ecstatic and wagging his big thumping tail at them, put their minds at ease, all was well, and the story lived on.

News from the Recompense Fund

Happy New Year from Recompense! We would like to thank the entire community for your amazing support in 2018, which will enable us to continue the upward trend of our giving to the Chebeague nonprofit community.

Donations are still coming in, and the generous match of the Raymond Family Foundation will continue in 2019.

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JANUARY 2019 CHEBEAGUE ISLAND COUNCIL CALENDAR