Everybody has stories about animals. I've even got a few that I'm working into a magazine article. The first has to do with a spitz dog that saved me from a lonely death in a slough. It seems that the dog and I took off one day. I was in the toddler stage, just getting around well. So down the road we went. We made it about 2 1/2 miles to the edge of a slough where I was hidden from sight in a forest of cattails. Faithful dog he was, he stayed with me. My mother tells me they looked everywhere they could think ... but there? From what I can learn, spitz dogs are a type, not a breed. One characteristic is the bushy tail. There it was waving upright in that slough that an uncle driving past noticed. He checked it out, and there I was. I only wish I had a better memory of that dog.
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That memory of the spitz was awakened when I was doing some research for another topic. I ran across this story told by the noted Indian historian Charles Eastman of the famous Indian chief named Gall. He, too, was a toddler; his mother had placed him in a basket on a travois hitched to a camp dog as the tribe worked its way across country searching for buffalo. One day this scene developed: a jackrabbit jumped from cover, and every dog in camp took off after it. This included those bearing packs and those pulling travois. There Gall was, racing across country behind a dog in hot pursuit, with a frantic, screaming mother racing behind. He clung to the dog's tail and it so happened his dog was the one whose jaws snapped shut on the leaping rabbit.
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Dad told this story about his brother Alfred. At a young age, here came Alfred driving a team hitched to a plow. Coming down a hill the plow ran into the back of the horses which then bolted and started running. Grandpa stood nearby putting in new fenceposts. He hollered at Alfred to drop the plow into the ground so it would brake the horses. He never heard. It so happened that those horses straddled the line of posts, one on either side. They broke off every post that Grandpa had set in the ground. It was only when they came to a sturdy corner post that they came to a halt.
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There's something about a story that has a strong animal character in it. Western writers discovered that a long time ago, and the stories keep on a-comin'. Happy trails.
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The phone rang this morning. A gentleman called wanting some William Wade books. He ended up buying seven of them. I do believe I'd better order some more. Of 250 books, I have only half a dozen or so left. The book publishing experience has been very gratifying for me. Not that there is any money in it because there isn't. It's just that I found a topic that resonates with lots of local history lovers.
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Two Horses
A blonde bought two horses but could never remember which horse was which. A neighbor suggested that she cut the tail off one horse and that worked great until the other horse got his tail caught in a bush. It tore just right and looked exactly like the other horse's tail, and our friend was stuck again. The neighbor suggested she notch the ear on one horse. That worked fine until the other horse caught his on a barbed wire fence. Once again our friend couldn't tell them apart. The neighbor suggested she measure the horses for height. When she did she was very pleased to find that the white horse was 2 inches taller than the black horse.
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Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.
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That memory of the spitz was awakened when I was doing some research for another topic. I ran across this story told by the noted Indian historian Charles Eastman of the famous Indian chief named Gall. He, too, was a toddler; his mother had placed him in a basket on a travois hitched to a camp dog as the tribe worked its way across country searching for buffalo. One day this scene developed: a jackrabbit jumped from cover, and every dog in camp took off after it. This included those bearing packs and those pulling travois. There Gall was, racing across country behind a dog in hot pursuit, with a frantic, screaming mother racing behind. He clung to the dog's tail and it so happened his dog was the one whose jaws snapped shut on the leaping rabbit.
...
Dad told this story about his brother Alfred. At a young age, here came Alfred driving a team hitched to a plow. Coming down a hill the plow ran into the back of the horses which then bolted and started running. Grandpa stood nearby putting in new fenceposts. He hollered at Alfred to drop the plow into the ground so it would brake the horses. He never heard. It so happened that those horses straddled the line of posts, one on either side. They broke off every post that Grandpa had set in the ground. It was only when they came to a sturdy corner post that they came to a halt.
...
There's something about a story that has a strong animal character in it. Western writers discovered that a long time ago, and the stories keep on a-comin'. Happy trails.
...
The phone rang this morning. A gentleman called wanting some William Wade books. He ended up buying seven of them. I do believe I'd better order some more. Of 250 books, I have only half a dozen or so left. The book publishing experience has been very gratifying for me. Not that there is any money in it because there isn't. It's just that I found a topic that resonates with lots of local history lovers.
...
Two Horses
A blonde bought two horses but could never remember which horse was which. A neighbor suggested that she cut the tail off one horse and that worked great until the other horse got his tail caught in a bush. It tore just right and looked exactly like the other horse's tail, and our friend was stuck again. The neighbor suggested she notch the ear on one horse. That worked fine until the other horse caught his on a barbed wire fence. Once again our friend couldn't tell them apart. The neighbor suggested she measure the horses for height. When she did she was very pleased to find that the white horse was 2 inches taller than the black horse.
...
Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.
