By Daris Howard | Special to The PREVIEW
Bob, the dog, had really become part of the family, saving 5-year-old Joyce from the bull and showing that he could bring the cows from the pasture for milking, even closing and latching the gate. Sometimes the family members wondered how he had learned to do everything he did. Then, one day, they got an inkling.
Joyce was brushing Bob after a bath. The brushing he liked; the bath not so much. She was still trying to get the burrs out of his fur when a pickup pulled into the yard.
Gas was hard to pay for during the Depression, so when any vehicle came, it caused great curiosity. Arden, Joyce’s father, went to meet the visitors. Though they were quite a distance away, Joyce could hear the conversation. The man said he was from the circus, and they had just arrived in town. He needed some hay for some animals and had heard word that Arden had some he might sell.
Cash was in short supply, so Arden was happy to sell what they could spare from feeding their own animals. He invited the man to the house. As they approached, suddenly Bob jumped to his feet and started barking. He moved into attack position and bared his teeth.
The man stopped. His face deepened into an angry scowl. “Shadow, you stupid mutt. How did you get clear out here from Chicago?”
“Shadow?” Arden asked.
“Yes,” the man said. “That is my dog. I trained him to do all sorts of tricks.” The man then turned to Bob and commanded, “Shadow, lie down.”
But Bob didn’t lie down. If anything, his growl became lower and more threatening. The man pulled a whip from a loop on his belt. “I’ll teach you to growl at me.”
But as he brought the whip back to strike, Arden grabbed the man’s wrist. “If you touch that dog with a whip, I’ll use it on you.”
The man jerked his wrist from Arden’s grasp. “That is my dog, and I will have him back.”
“That dog is not leaving this farm,” Arden said.
“We’ll see,” the man said. He then went to his truck and left.
“Daddy, you aren’t going to let that mean man take Bob, are you?” Joyce asked.
“No,” Arden said. “He is part of the family.”
Bob had barely calmed down when the man returned with the sheriff following close behind. After they had both exited their vehicles, the man pointed at Bob, who bristled again. “That is my dog, and I demand to have him returned.”
“Can you prove it?” the sheriff asked.
“I have lots of papers,” the man said.
“Papers mean nothing,” Arden said. “If a dog belongs to a man, he should be able to call and have him come.”
“That’s true,” the sheriff said to the man. “Why don’t you call him?”
The man took a deep breath, turned to Bob, and commanded, “Here, Shadow.”
Bob bared his teeth, got into an attack stance, and growled.
“But I can show you markings that will verify he is my dog,” the man said.
“Like the whip marks all over him?” Arden asked. “I knew they were familiar. I recognize them from the dogs and horses we worked with in the Great War. Some men mishandled them.”
“Well,” the sheriff said, “I am not inclined to believe you have proven he is yours.”
“Look,” Arden said. “I am an honest man. Even if he is yours, as you claim, maybe we can trade some hay for the dog. You wanted four wagon loads. How about we give you one for free for the dog?”
“How about three?” the man said.
“You haven’t even proven he is yours,” Arden replied. “I can’t go higher than two.”
“OK,” the man said. “Two it will be, and you can keep the ungrateful mutt.”
When the wagons arrived to pick up the hay, Arden’s wife was concerned. “Can we spare two loads of hay to them for free?”
Arden smiled. “We’ll be OK, and it is a small price to pay to free Bob from the life he has had.”
To be continued.
Views expressed do not necessarily represent those of The SUN.
