So I've been staying home alone and lately I've been hearing dogs barking and howling outside. The first time I heard it, it reminded me of lying in my twin bed with cool summer sheets, in the farm house room I shared with my sister. Although we could often hear the dogs yelling at coyotes, cows, or any mammals in the area nightly, I was only compelled to open the window to yell into the dark summer night once in the 13 years we lived there: "SHUUUUUUUUUUTTT UUUUUPPPPPPPPPPP DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGS! SHUT UP!...SHUT UP!....SHUT...UP DOOOOOOOGS!"
I love all four of my in law's dogs (Frannie, pictured above), and anyone who has met my cats know how important they are to Tim and I; but up until the last few years of my life, the death of a family pet affected me as much as the death of a family goldfish named Lamont (COSBY SHOW REFERENCE). The Mebergs had a problem fulfilling the life expectancy of canines. My dad has always liked tough dogs, and could not turn down a stray dog that ended up a the Cenex station in town. We did not allow them in the house, even in the winter, but sometimes we would let them hide from fireworks in the front porch. It was a distant but happy life for those doggies.
1. Dusty, an adoptee from Grandpa Mische, which he adopted from the Hutzenbeuhler family in town. Dusty nearly died after being stuck in a large puddle of mud for up to five days. My dad heard him howling at several times at night, but assumed it was a coyote When he found him in the middle of a dry cow pasture, we got to skip church to clean him off. Other than that, Dusty was also well known for being best friends with Queenie, the alpha female feline on the Meberg campus. ALSO, the best watch dog we had on the farm EVER.
2. Skipper. Technically, he was a foster dog. Out cousins left for Nigeria for four years, and we agreed to take care of their Border Collie, Pepper. Dad always said you could tell that Pepper had been disciplined after she was called, because she would come to you with her head ducked down. Pepper met an early end when she was following the hay baler my dad was driving. Poor Pepper.
3. Scrappy. Border Collie mix. Very small, black and speckled and such. She could have been a great dog, but my dad told me the coyotes got her. I think when we went on a big family walk one day, we found her old dog collar.
4. D. D. Another adoptee from a town family. The Daigles gave up a Cockapoo that wasn't fit to live in a house of five young girls. So we took her on, and although it was the girliest dog that ever lived in our barn, it outlived Scrappy, Foxy, and Mick. We would grow her hair out during the winter, and when we'd call her from across the yard, it was a like a puffball bounding across an sea of scoria. D.D. liked being held like an infant, and my mom and I were scissor cutting her hair one fine Spring day when we both agreed: This dog, D.D.? She is the best dog we've had in a long time!
Months later, D.D. was shot by a neighbor because she kept chasing his cattle out and ruining his fences. The might of a small Cockapoo is very impressive. Poor D.D. (also, the neighbor was romantically connected to Ms. Daigle, the original owner of the dog. That is practically a story line from Northern Exposure)
5. & 6. Foxy looked like a fox but was 14% as cunning. Mick was white and black speckled, had one blue and one green eye, and was equally dimwitted. Mick lasted longer than Foxy, but not by much.
7. I think this is when Shadow joined the crew.
Ah, Shadow. I think I am actually getting him mixed up with an earlier Black Lab that showed up in town. Supposedly, hunters that are very dissatisfied with their hunting dogs will just leave them in the country, and we attached this story to Shadow. Shadow had some romantic feelings for dad's leg, and was also known to tackle our younger cousins. After losing a fight with a tractor, Shadow was put on an IV, and I clearly remember Mom being very unhappy about it. Basically, if the dog was too stupid to live, it was too stupid to live.
I think that Shadow was also hit by the pickup, and my dad adopted the practice of driving very close to Shadow as he kept pace with my dad's driving, and then SMACKING him with the pickup driver-side door. Repeatedly, if needed. Otherwise Shadow would just chase my dad for miles and miles. This was Shadow's unfortunate undoing; he followed my dad on a routine 30 mile farm errand, and my dad attempted to cool him in a pool of water, but his tough Black Lab heart just couldn't take it.
8. Elsa. Looked like a mid-sized chocolate lab, and got the most tender loving from my parents. Elsa was the ONLY dog that got to sleep indoors, and even in the KITCHEN. She'd sleep on the entry way rug and moan and shuffle her feet while dreaming dog fantasies we can only pretend to imagine. Everything about her just said "Don't question me. LOVE ME. Or I will DIE."
9. Duke. Another Border Collie cross*, I think. Duke was your regular farm dog, ran all over, loved life. Very jumpy. Very happy. Grandpa Mische took care of both Elsa and Duke after our family moved away from the farm, and when I heard Elsa and Duke had passed away, I admit I was sad. If I could have another dog like Elsa, I'd be very happy. I assume they are both enjoying four-legged heaven.
I think I might actually be leaving dogs out! Isn't that crazy? In the past six years, I also met an adopted Greyhound living in an apartment, the amazing Ginger of Nydam House in Cape Cod, mother and daughter Springer Spaniels that have survived bear attacks in the Wisconsin woods, and of course, Ellie (closest to my heart), Frannie, Skipper, and Daisy, of Orchard Drive in Fargo. They are all lovely, lovely dogs who have lead and lead great lives, and instead of having an "ah, so it goes," attitude about their time on earth, I have progressed into adulthood and will finally have fond memories for all canines that cross my path.
Come on, Ruth. Something must be bothering you. This is a long bit of words and punctuation. What is bothering you? Self, I've been home fore three nights in a row and the cats have BARELY asked how my day has been when I get home. Our cats love Tim more than me. It stings.
Meow.
*Although we housed several Border Collie crosses on the farm, none of them helped us herd cattle. We had to do that on our feet..
4 comments:
Only one correction, Pepper and I did learn to herd cattle together. In fact, Pepper was gone a year before the cows figured out that a whistle from me wouldn't send a four-legged cruise missle after them.
All the good dogs got buried on the hill and I go there every so often just to visit.
Dad
before writing that down, i felt like we had more dogs than 8-9 growing up.
i was always happy when mom would warm up to a dog. she was always like, ANOTHER DOG?
pepper was the one true border collie, i think. she was a good farm dog too.
Um, I think you stole this topic from me. But you did it more justice. It's crazy how much more you remember - maybe because I was immersed in the book world, and you were paying more attention to reality. And maybe because I never really cared much for any of the dogs. (Although that DD wasn't all that great - she killed chickens AND cats. Bugger.)
I was just given the honor of notifying Frannie, in person (dogson?), that she is currently the star of your blog. She is VERY excited and presently lounging quite comfortably in the huge chair in John and Jo Ann's living room observing the activity in a noticeably seal-like manner.
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