A portion of my genealogy research is spent squinting at old photos to give a name to as yet unidentified people. Stacked around the periphery of my consciousness was the realization that I have an awful lot of photographs that include animals. It wasn’t until I was transferring some old photos to an acid-free album that I stopped to think about how much these pictures can tell us.
As someone who has never been without a pet, I considered this common thread that wound its way through my family tree. Images taken over the decades can convey part of a relative’s personality that may not be readily discerned in more fact-oriented documentation. Lacking any personal references such as old letters, diary entries, or a living person who knew them, a photo of an ancestor with a cherished pet reveals a side we would perhaps not otherwise know.
An ancestor I only knew as a blacksmith, factory worker, farmer, or housekeeper may show me another side by posing with a dog, holding a cat in his or her lap, or a day of play out in the snow with kids and dogs. Photographs weren’t taken as readily when costly film was used, and then more money was required to develop that film. The fact that a photo exists of a pet illustrates its importance to the family. The context of the photo can indicate a hobby that person enjoyed or even a detail about a family member’s health.
Another boon from these photos is the memories it can help us recall. Something I may have forgotten suddenly rushes back to me. Of course, that can happen with any photo, but I’ve remembered a few things that were brought back to me by seeing a particular pet in the photo.
A few days ago, I pulled out the oldest photo albums I have and went through them. The greatest number were of dogs, but also captured were a few cats and more than one picture of two goats being on leashes. One photo was of two cousins dressed in their dresses, ankle socks, and Mary Jane’s walking pet goats in a park.
I have chosen a few photos to write about.
My maternal grandfather, Kenneth Brown, often had a dog. Every night after supper he went outside and spent time with the dog. Maybe walk around the lake or take a lawn chair out into the grass and relax with the dog next to him.
He had two types of dogs. If it was a Collie, it was named Sugar. If not, it was named Brownie. Well, at least that is what I recall. Despite the repetition of the same names, he throughly enjoyed his dogs, playing fetch with them and calling them to walk with him.
I remember one of the Brownies, the last one from the 1970s. That Brownie was a mix, golden brown in color and sleek-haired. Our family dog was a Beagle-Pekingese named Dixie Bug. My grandparents lived on the still-rural edge of the same city we lived in so our visits were frequent. During one of these, Dixie and Brownie played in the field behind my grandparents’ house. Dixie returned but Brownie didn’t. If the reason was ever discovered, I wasn’t told. The memory still makes me sad.
My maternal grandmother, Reva Hayden Brown, had a two dachshunds (at different times), one miniature and one standard, but both named Candy. Her last dog, another chubby beagle-ish mix, was named Brandy. There is a confectionary theme here but I doubt it was intended.
Neither of my grandparents had a conspicuous sweet tooth and it probably is mere coincidence. But they did name their pets with sweet names, and to me, it expresses their care.
My paternal grandparents, Zeno and Lillian Fields Boatright, took the most photos of pets. Dogs, puppies, and at least two cats. There were numerous pictures of other animals including the family cow, a squirrel, and a flock of chickens scattered throughout the albums. Seeing both grandparents holding, playing with, or posing next to these furry friends tells me they loved them for their companionship, the pleasure of their presence, and the fun their antics brought to their sometimes rugged lives.
The only pet of theirs within my memory was a Cocker Spaniel named Snooper. I was pretty small at the time and Snooper seemed enormous. He was not a slender dog, let’s put it that way, so it may not have been merely my perception. Snooper was photographed in the yard during the blossoming of spring and posing regally in the piled up snow of the driveway. He was absolutely a much-loved family member.
I remember being told my second cousin, Jon Boczkiewicz, had a pet fox he had found, but it was long before I was born. I was a couple decades too late to meet the fox.
For a time, Jon lived with his grandparents, Irma Boatright Falls and John Falls. Irma was my great aunt, my grandfather’s sister. Jon’s mother, Olean, died when he was young and his father, Phillip, had a cleaning business to run with stores in two different towns in southern Illinois.
Irma’s husband, John Falls, my great-uncle, had a Beagle named Ann. If Ann had ever been a hunting dog, she was retired and enjoyed every minute of her leisure time. She was the type of Beagle with short stocky legs, she smiled a lot, did not get in a hurry, and lived for her snacks.
Now…there is my maternal great-grandmother, Carrie Hayden, who had a Chihuahua named Nippy. Nippy was given her name for a very good reason. She was exactly that. When I was around 7-8 years old, Nippy was a geriatric, chocolate brown Chihuahua with a gray muzzle and a misshapen leg from a break that didn’t heal properly. She did not let any of that stop her from maintaining her reign of terror against anyone besides The Mama. I’m fairly certain my great-grandmother did not discourage Nippy’s threats of bloodshed. On the contrary, she was amused by it. I can remember her chuckling when Nippy snapped at me. So take that as you will.
Loving animals as much as I did, and still do, I wanted so badly to pet Nippy. Even the fierce, snarling, and teeth-baring barely kept me at bay. Despite a few years of effort on my part. I never did get to pet that dog. They had another Chihuahua before Nippy who I believe was named Madge. My mother said Madge was just as bitey as Nippy.
My maternal great-grandfather, Everett Hayden, had goats for milking and Beagles that were mainly hunting dogs. They had their own house in the backyard and were well-treated. Although I don’t recall hearing a name for any of them, they probably did have. This photo of Everett and his brother Thomas, taken with the dogs, shows an adult and two puppies. Everett died when I was too young to remember him. No one ever talked to me about him being a hunter or whether he just raised dogs to sell for hunting. This photo, along with a couple of others, tells me he and his brother may have been close and enjoyed hunting and fishing together.
The dogs’ house wasn’t a barely big enough structure on the ground, it was a shed within the fenced back yard, built off the ground to keep out moisture and filled with straw for warmth. Knowing him to have been a gentle man, I’m sure he felt fondness for them beyond their job as hunting dogs. He had a sense of humor as well it would seem.
Seeing several photos of goats and their kids, I asked my mom about it. She did recall that someone in the family had an allergy to cow’s milk so the goats were brought in. Judging by the numerous photos, they weren’t far off being pets themselves.
Clearly, these geese aren’t pets, but until these old photos were found in my mom’s closet, I had no idea my great aunt on mom’s side was an avid outdoors person and loved all animals. I’ve learned a lot about her from old photos even though I knew her all my life until she passed in 2011.
These old photographs of my ancestors and the animals they loved is a connection between us that spans time and enriches their personality in a way that touches my heart. It endears them to me even more. I’ll finish with some photos of family and their pets for whom I don’t know names but who were part of the family all the same.
I think you’re right about what photos of our ancestors with animals can tell us. I will be looking much more carefully at my stash!
Lovely post. It’s so important to honor our animal ancestors. Thank you!