Here’s some sound effects to try. Point the fingers of one hand downward, and start drumming them on a table or desk. Now, repeat this with both hands, and also ask some friends to join. Next, make the high-pitched sound of dogs barking at the Grant-Patten milk man who just knocked on your door.

Congratulations! The sounds you have just made are very similar to what I heard on a regular basis when I was growing up. My mother raised American Kennel Club-registered Chihuahuas, and sold them to Chattanoogans wanting small house dogs. We had hardwood floors, so the dogs were easily heard when they came running to see what was going on. If my mother had just waxed the floors, then there would sometimes be spin-outs. Having the lineage of dogs many times their size, they initially stood their ground with any human, canine, or feline interloper.

Keeping our compact pack healthy was Dr. Edwin E. Chambers and his staff at the Rossville Veterinary Clinic at 4805 English Avenue. Dr. Chambers was a native of Kansas, and obtained his DVM at Kansas State University in 1941. His early experience was in Trion, Georgia. Dr. Chambers served as the chief veterinarian at the Riegledale Farms before moving to Chattanooga in 1945. Many pets and their owners got to know him, for he provided health care to pets at his Rossville office until one year before his passing in 1993.

It was a short ride from our house to the vet’s office. The dogs rode with me in the back seat of our 1963 Chevrolet BelAir. The sky blue vinyl interior might not have been as stylish as today’s cars, but was handy when carrying dogs. Puppies were restrained in a box as they traveled to get their shots, and we kept our few older dogs on leashes. I recall that they would bark loudly at any larger dog in the waiting room, and then quickly retreat under one of the chairs.

After a visit to the vet, we would sometimes drive through the Golden Gallon Milk Jug near the clinic. The store’s employees always laughed at the sight of a car full of Chihuahuas. I think that we had at least one offer for a puppy while we were stopped for milk.

My favorite of the ones that we ever owned was Alvin, named for the chipmunk star of the “Alvin Show” on television in the early 1960’s. His mother was Ginger, apparently named for the color of the spice, since she was born before “Gilligan’s Island” debuted. Ginger’s previous owners were retired Chattanooga Fire Department captain John Bird and Chattanooga Parks and Recreation employee Ruth Bird. Ginger’s official AKC name was something like Jo-Ru (for owners John and Ruth) Lady Dinorah. The name made her sound more regal than she looked after gnawing the daily newspaper that had been left on the floor.

The Chihuahuas were very devoted to their owners, to the point of being a problem when extended family and friends visited. My wife recalls that on her first visit to our house, the dogs incessantly encircled her chair, barking all the time. “It was clear that they didn’t accept me, because I wasn’t one of the family.” That eventually changed after the Chihuahuas took a vote.

The last Chihuahua of our family tree was Wendy, named for the 1967 hit by The Association. Yes, the song was “Windy,” but I didn’t notice the spelling on the WFLI Top 40 chart. Wendy moved with us to a couple of other addresses, and lived into her late teens. In fact, I believe she held our record for longevity.

My mother often said, “Dogs can get the same illnesses that humans do.” Over the years, that proved to be true. Our aging Chihuahuas came down with cataracts, heart problems, and breast cancer. As a child, I was able to experience the cycle of life through our Chihuahuas, and had a lot of fun watching them grow.

If you have memories of growing up with Chihuahuas or of the Rossville Veterinary Clinic, please send me an e-mail at jolleyh@bellsouth.net.

Chihuahuas pose for a family photograph. Click to enlarge.