A few years ago, I found a postcard dated Sept. 21, 1959. It was written to me by my maternal grandmother, Rose Ella White Steele. The pet mentioned in the below message was my dog, “Cubby.” He stayed at my grandparent’s rural Marianna, Penn., home, because I couldn’t keep him in the apartment my mother and I occupied in Washington, Penn.:
“Monday morning: Hi, Honey. Well, I thought you’d like to know how the pup got along last nite. We put him in the shed not long after you left, just turned him loose and shut the door. I gave him some bread and milk and a flat bone from the roast we had. It had grease on it and you should have seen him gnawing on it. He didn’t cry to amount to anything, just settled down and we didn’t hear him all nite. I went out just now to feed him and he was still asleep in the corner on a sack. From now on I’m going to leave him in the room at nite. I don’t think he will keep us awake and he will be warmer in there. I’ll get him a collar when I go to town. I’ll take good care of him. So don’t worry. Love, — Gram”
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