Drive - A Memoir 73rd Installment
the
barn and put her in a stanchion. Russ spread the balm thick over the
hole we had inflicted in poor Heidi and even tried to poke some Bag
Balm into the hole. “That’s enough,” I said finally. “The Old
Man will know what more we should do. Let’s leave Heidi here till
they come home.”
Farm
life is sometimes cruel to animals. We farm kids got to see this
harshness close up and personal, and we’d had to develop a stiff
emotional attitude.
When
I was only seven or eight the old man shot the farm dog right in
front of us because the dog was chasing the dairy cows! Harsh! But,
as always, Vern made clear the reason why. “Dairy cows can be
damaged if they’re run very hard. The cows make us a living; the
dog doesn’t – end of story.”
Vern
was right, I had to admit. That dog would chase the cow, and when he
would get close enough, he would clamp his jaws onto the cow’s tail
and plant his feet. The cow would drag the dog, dirt flying, until
the dog lost his grip or slid into a hole or dyke and would take a
tumble. One time he even took a backwards tumble when he went after
the donkey. Oscar, our donkey, was too smart for this dog, and when
the pooch got close and was reaching for the donkey’s tail, Oscar
kicked back hard catching the dog square in the snout. The dog did a
full backwards summersault with the force of the blow, lit on its
feet, and then took a full head over heels forward tumble.
The
longest living dog on the farm was Bowser who lasted about three
years. When we took him hunting with us, we’d tie a cable around
his neck and the other end tied to the drawbar of the tractor so he
wouldn’t run out ahead of us. Well, once, the dog decided to run
ahead anyway and started to pass on the right as we were going full
speed down the dirt road. The cable caught on the tire tread of the
back tire and went around taking up the slack and on the second
revolution, came tight and swung the dog in a high arc slamming him
to the ground. We slid to a stop and baled off to check on Bowser. He
was just laying there with his tongue lolling and his eyes all bugged
out because the cable had become so tight. We loosened the cable and
took it off. Luckily, Bowser snapped back to life, scrambled back to
his feet, and looked at us as if saying “Whoa! That was fun!”
Then
there was the white duck I won at the Mud Lake Fair and rodeo. That
duck was dumber than a bag of rocks. It ran around the yard with the
cats and the dog, playing and eating out of the slop dish with
500 more words tomorrow
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