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Tom Mody
Mody Company Creative
607-336-6233 ph | 607-336-6232 fx
tom@modycompany.com
56 West Main, Norwich NY 13815
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Author Notes | Chapter Excerpts | Fact or Fiction | Paw Prints
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eMEET TUFFY & MITSY
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Names: Tuffy & Mitsy
Breed: French Poodles
Primary Novel Master: Lew
In The Novel: Mostly these two poodles appeared when ever Master Lew was dropped off around town. Usually perched in the back window of their master's mercedes safe from harms way, they represented both a scorned confinement and an envy for their luxurious and consistent "ride". Dallas even created sick little poems directed at the species.
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MASTER'S FORUM
 Shane Lewis on Tuffy & Mitsy
It all started when at I was at the innocent age of four. We had a white french poodle named Mitzi. Not sure where the name came from as I was too young to remember her time of arrival. She was indeed, a class act. Innocent and sweet, yet confident and vivacious, with a cottontail swagger that's probably what started the whole "sit up and beg" thing amongst the canine community. Plus the whole foreign bitch thing only added to her appeal.
She was a powerful figure in the dogie world of scratch and sniff. Although, if you weren't a purebred with papers, you might as well hump a family member or anything else you might have your way with. However, to a young child at the age of four, she held no power or respect. Humiliation and mistreatment (when mom and dad weren't watching) was what she endured . Like the time I put her in the hamper and closed the lid where she remained until I decided that was boring, and so took her out.
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Mitsy at the family camp
1970's
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Or the time I tried to get her to sit on the toy train track while the train came at her. Embarrassing but true. Kids can be so cruel. Probably why she would shake with fear of me for the rest of her days. Sorry Mitzi! We gave her to my grandmother as it became apparent to my parents that I was too young to have a dog. However, had these instances never occurred, never would we have had the honor to master the one ,the one that the prophesies spoke of. The one that would bring about balance, order, and harmony to the world of dog eat dog. The one that would bring about a sophistication and refinement to a species that had never known such attributes. The one that would bring dogkind to it's evolutionary peak. The one would be the greatest of all dogkind creations- (enter)...TUFFY! |
| About a year after we gave Mitzi to my grandmother, I pleaded with my parents for another dog. After much reassurance that I could be responsible and respectful if we were to get another dog, they gave in. I remember the day we brought him home however from where I do not recall, nor does my mother.
Mysteriously appropriate I suppose. He was a just a puppy. We lived in the little house across the street from Lewis' restaurant. It was difficult to think of a suitable name to fit a dog who's already mysterious presence conjured up sensations of grandeur. Not just the unprecedented handsomeness of his being, but a strength of will, a divine entity who's time has come to answer the call of need indeed. As if there was a purpose, an agenda of difficult tasks set before him. After several names were bounced around, nothing seemed right. It wasn't until my brother Kyle suggested "Tuffy". It just fit. "Tuffy!" I pronounced.......... and so it was.
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Tuffy at home
1970's
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Tuffy and Mitsy in their luxurious cage
1970's
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He was the most fearless and ferocious French poodle ever known. Almost too much so for his own good. Like the time when still a puppy, tried to cross route 12B in front of an 18 wheeler. He was thrown, or more probably blown (not sure which) into a tumbleweed roll for about 10 to 15 feet. He came out of it unscathed naturally, and so became a quick learner in that he stayed away from the road figuring out that his purpose wasn't so meaningless as to chase after and bark at large vehicles that could potentially crush him. That task was left up to less evolved breeds of the species. Nor would he embark on such meaningless quests as to seek out and uncover inanimate objects as insignificant as a rocks. Yes his IQ was higher than that of a box of rocks. He was maturing.
The only thing he needed was a larger castle and courtyard in the highlands to accentuate his rule as the new dog king. Good fortune would ensue as my dad had purchased a larger house on the hill atop route 80. He would have 40 acres of free roam. It was the American dog-dream transpiring before him.
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If only Dallas was here to
comment on this photo
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