(part 2 - Freckles)
Carmon called Freckles a Heinz dog,
which simply meant she could claim ancestry from many breeds. She was very small, with a long body and
short legs. Her face looked a little
like a miniature collie and she had very long and very silky fur. I loved her.
Carmon always seemed to choose hounds, a notoriously shorthaired
bunch. Freckles was one of the few
non-hounds we ever hosted. You will note
I didn’t say owned. I doubt that
anyone ever owned Freckles.
Even though she was far smaller than
Brandy, she soon became the dominant dog.
One night, shortly after she had wandered into our lives, we were
awakened by a cacophony of pitiful howls emanating from somewhere out
back. Fearing a robber, Carmon slipped
his shotgun out of the gun cabinet, loaded a shell, and went outside to
investigate. I waited, scarcely
breathing, for what seemed like an eternity.
Carmon returned to the bedroom, chuckling, and put his gun back into the
cabinet without a word. “Well?” I asked. “What on earth was going on outside?"
With his characteristic brevity, Carmon explained that everything was
fine. It seemed that Freckles had stolen
Brandy’s chewy toy as well as keeping her own.
Freckles was contentedly gnawing on both toys while Brandi (who
outweighed Freckles by a good ten pounds) was howling in protest, too afraid to
mount a challenge to get her bone back!
Freckles often behaved more like a cat
than a dog. She had the same independent
spirit. Whereas most dogs give their
love unconditionally and on demand, Freckles allowed human affection if and
when she wanted it. Her wanting it was
rare indeed. Carmon was lukewarm to her,
preferring Brandy who stayed at his heels the entire time he was home,
constantly looking for both his love and his approval. Freckles rarely sought anyone’s approval for
anything and, catlike, tended to do her own thing regardless of who was or was
not at home.
She did have one cat-like quality that we
all appreciated; she was an exceptionally adroit mouser. Perhaps I’d better explain: When you live in the country, particularly if
you keep hay, grain, and other feed for livestock, you are sure to attract
rodents. Contrary to popular belief,
rodents – in this case, field mice – are not dumb animals. As soon as the weather turned cold, the mice
would migrate from the barn to the house.
All winter we would wage perpetual warfare with the mice. Due to sheer numbers alone, the mice were often winning.
That was not the case during the few years we claimed Freckles as
a member of the family. She not only
kept the house rodent-free, she did a pretty good job of reducing their numbers
in the barn as well. Unlike a cat,
Freckles did not present her trophies at our feel for our approval. She disposed of them. The diet suited her well. She grew sleek and fat and her coat and eyes
shone with the unmistakable glow of health.
You’d think that with having her own
personal rodent smorgasbord, Freckles would have been ours for life. Unfortunately, that was not the case. She disappeared one afternoon as mysteriously
as she had arrived. We placed an ad in the lost and found column and watched
the ads in the lost and found column, but to no avail. The children and I grieved our loss, which
was almost worse than if she had died because there was no closure. We only hoped that Freckles found a good home
with a family to love her, and we gave thanks that for a little while, she had
been a part of our family.
© Gebara Education,
2001. No portion of this book may be
copied by any method without the express written permission of the author
Picture of small dog from http://jypennysblogs.blogspot.com
Picture of dog with chew toy from www.unclestevies.com
Picture of a field mouse from www.1234f.com
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