Clementine - by Peggy Ankerman

Clementine, Clem, Clemmer - whatever nickname we chose to give her, she was always there for us while we were growing up-happy, wiggly, homely Clementine.
She was small and wiry, part beagle, part terrier, with bugging-out eyes, and a tail that was always bloody at the tip from wagging it in the prickers.
Clementine loved to climb trees and ladders, quick as a wink, step by step, looking ridiculous. She lived in a large dog run that had an electric wire around the top, so she couldn’t climb out and get hurt on the sharp edges. 
Riding in a doll buggy was one of Clem’s favorite pastimes. We’d push her down the driveway in Holland, MI with her long hounds’ ears flapping in the breeze, wearing a frilly doll dress. Sometimes we would turn sadistic (as children often do) and give the buggy a shove to send it careening alone, headlong over ruts and stones. We watched to see how long Clem could stay in it until she leaped out as it tipped over with a crash, wheels spinning crazily. We knew she’d never get hurt- Clementine could jump like a kangaroo.
Being curious as most hounds are, Clem poked her nose everywhere. It wasn’t’ an unusual sight to see her with a swollen bump on her face from a bee sting, or a large ant hanging off her lip, when she got too close.
She also loved to chase bunnies, and the hound in her would bay with delight when she was hot on a trail. Once she followed a rabbit right down its hole. Dad thought she was gone forever, but she turned around inside and came back out blinking in the sunlight, with her eyelashes caked with dirt!
Whether it be food or garbage, to Clem one was as wonderful as the other. We had a barrel with a cover behind the garage for decomposable garbage, and it had a small hole in the side. Clem climbed in and gorged to her heart’s delight, bloating up so fat from egg shells and chicken bones, that she couldn’t squeeze back out. We found her that evening wagging her tail happily between toxic belches and burps.
Clementine was also a professional food-stealer. If you lowered an ice cream cone to her jump level, she’d slurp the whole scoop off in a flash. Crouch down with gum in your mouth? She’d have it in a second. We’d just smile and pat her head, totally delighted with her barbaric manners, because she was our beloved Clem.
Clem always stunk. A manure pile to roll in was bliss to her. Her favorite snack was fresh horse hoof clippings, during a farrier’s trimming. Her breath could singe your eyebrows, and her fur was often caked with grime. However, if we had to soap our arms, hands and face after cuddling with her, it was a small price to pay for the loving devotion she gave us unconditionally. Every family should experience a Clementine.