Tales from the Bark Side

By Keith Ross | The Daily Journal

Published Saturday, September 8, 2007

Welcome back to the bark side of life here in Ottertail where Labor Day has come and gone, but the last remnants of a painting project still linger a while longer.

The tomatoes are making a salsa that may be the best batch yet and the puppies (four weeks old) are beginning to take over the garage. They have gone from being these little cooing and squeaking creatures to adventuresome pups that have to get into everything they can find, some of which yours truly has “pup proofed” by placing out of reach, for now at least.

I had a reader from Frazee send me a poem that addresses ownership and who has what in the broader scheme of things.

Jean E. Sailer’s poem reminds my wife of a certain writer’s truck. Here’s a post Labor Day treat for you.

Pa and the dog

by Jean E. Sailer

Pa did it again today.

Opened the door of the truck

For the dog.

There King was found,

Several hours later,

Sitting behind the wheel

Contented and comfortable

Gazing at the scenery!

Nights when the temperature

Drops well below zero,

Pa allows the dog to sleep

Inside the truck- -for warmth.

There are: well chewed bones, hair, mud,

And footprints all through the truck

But Pa and the dog don't mind!

The rest of the family

Is genuinely confused.

We have deliberated,

And debated, off and on,

Whether Pa allows the dog

In his truck — or if by chance

Pa drives the doghouse around!

Thank you, Jean for an astute observation.

A couple of winters ago I had an incident here at Rosswood that I will put in the book I’m currently writing (more on that subject at a later date) and this week’s entry in the “best critter tale” contest is remarkably similar in many ways. Marlo Henneman’s granddaughter, Emily, wrote this tale and it qualifies for the 18 and under category.

The Ice Angel

It was a long cold winter but Rommel, a very large Rottweiler, and Gidget, an English Staffordshire Bull Terrier were outside playing.

They like to chase each other and bark. Rommel had remained a puppy all his life but Gidget acted more grown-up.

Rommel saw a bunny going across the ice and went after it but he was so heavy that he fell through the ice. Gidget didn't cross the pond. She never went where she could see ice. She was a sensible dog.

She went back to the house where she was visiting. It was Jake and Marlo's house. They were Rommel's owners. They didn't see Rommel so they searched and searched but didn't have any luck.

Gidget spent the night on Rommel's bed playing with his toys. That was weird because she never liked toys.

The next morning Tim, their grandson came and helped look for Rommel who was very cold because he had been in the water overnight.

He could not bark to tell them where he was because the freezing water and mud were up over his neck and it paralyzed his vocal cords. Tim looked and looked in all the wrong places.

But Gidget remembered where Rommel fell in and led Tim to him. Tim and Jake pulled Rommel out and wrapped him in blankets and took him to the vet.

He was not hurt but very cold and would have died that day if Gidget hadn't told Tim where he was. Gidget was the hero of the day.

A few years later, Rommel died after a long battle with bone cancer. He is missed very much by his family and Gidget, of course.

But we will never forget that cold day that Gidget saved Rommel. She is the family angel and was sent to us for a reason. Rommel never did learn his lesson. He loved water and chasing bunnies all his life.

He is in dog heaven now and Gidget is enjoying a well-deserved life with her family at a lake near Ashby. To this day she does not like water and ice. but she loves her family and she did love her buddy, Rommel. She misses him like we all do, but we will see him again one day.

It is said that there are no extraordinary people in this world, just normal people forced to do extraordinary things. I believe the same can be said in the animal world.

The contest is starting to wind down so get those last minute entries in soon.

Keith Alan Ross writes from his New York Mills home.