More stories about the farm dogs.
As Danny said, Brownie was a friendly dog, my favorite pet and I think Hazel’s favorite of all times. Dad’s half sister, our Aunt Lola, gave him to us. She told us he was a quarter Eskimo. And, yes, Brownie had a lot of hair. He was miserable in the hot summers. This was the time before there was a pond on the farm, so Brownie would go almost anywhere to find a body of water so he could wallow in it and cool off.
The whole family loved Brownie. We thought he was a good family dog, very loyal and dependable. You may think he is pretty heroic yourself when you hear about the story that David told me.
When the excitement started on this particular night, Mom and Dad and David had already gone to bed. David said they may have already been asleep for a little while when suddenly Brownie started barking loud and frantically. You know how you can tell by the way a dog barks if something very extraordinary has alarmed the dog. Well, they could tell this was the case. And they could also tell that whatever or whoever was upsetting Brownie was close by, just over by the old corn crib and garage. (The crib used to stand across from the barn right beside the garage.) At that time there were some corn shocks stacked around these two small buildings. David said he would never forget hearing footsteps stomping on those corn shocks as the intruder circled around and around, trying to get away from Brownie.
By this time Mom, Dad, and David were all awake, standing on the porch, listening to the racket. Brownie kept on barking, mad as a hornet, and the intruder kept running and then started mumbling something under his breath. Dad was preparing to go check out what was going on. But then they heard the intruder say very clearly, “Get away, Brownie! Get away, Brownie!” Instantly Mom, Dad, and David recognized the voice. And instantly they started laughing. There was no real danger, and they thought it was very funny that Brownie was taking care of the matter all by himself. They didn’t call Brownie off. So Brownie kept on chasing and barking and going around and around until the intruder started running up the ridge road and was gone. Brownie came back to the house a very happy dog, proud of himself. And Mom and Dad and David went back to bed very happy as well.
Another farm dog story came from David also. This one involved Tip as well as Brownie when they went rabbit hunting one day, and it didn’t end too well. As far as I know, on this day Brownie and Tip got into the only fight they every had, but under the circumstances, it is easy to understand how it happened. One Saturday in the early 1950’s, I think, David had taken both Tip and Brownie rabbit hunting back near the Willie Bluff. The hunt was going just fine. The dogs had found a rabbit and chased it into a hollow log at the edge of the woods. Both dogs were very excited, of course, barking their heads off, and both of them trying to crawl into the log after the rabbit. At the same time David had shoved a stick into the log, trying to twist it into the rabbit’s fur. Well, poor old Brownie had very sore ears (I don’t know why), and Tip accidentally bit Brownie’s ear. In a flash the dogs were in a fight. Brownie tried to bite Tip back, but he bit David’s hand instead. David said the bite hurt awful. He held on to his hand, trying to stop the bleeding while he started hurrying back across the fields to the house as fast as he could get there.As it happened, Hazel and Jesse were visiting that weekend. It was Hazel who met David and helped him wash the blood off his injured hand, cleaned the wound, and wrapped it in a clean cloth. David didn’t go to the doctor for the bite. But he had the scar on his hand for a long time.*
* Sometime when I had phone calls from David, I would write down notes to help me remember what we had talked about. The night David told me this story about Brownie and Tip, was November 1, 2014. Tonight as I remember that conversation, I also remember the tenderness in David’s voice, the love and gratitude he felt toward Hazel for helping and comforting him the day his hand got injured. I really miss David’s phone calls. I wish I had saved more of his stories. They increase in value every year.